Fixation
by nerd6to6the6max
Summary: Beth Greene becomes fascinated by her best friend's older brother. He's in a gang, he's slightly strange, and Beth's family would definitely not approve of the Dixons. But is Daryl Dixon something more than a bad-boy biker with a difficult family and questionable morals? Or is he just another bad influence that Beth falls for? Maybe they'll help each other realize some hard truths
1. The Biker

Sunshine beat down onto the tarmac and reflected through the still air. It was hot, and Beth Greene screwed up her face in annoyance as she wheeled her bicycle down the dusty road. Its punctured tyre made a pathetic flopping sound each time the wheel rotated. Walking home from school took three times as long, and Beth knew she'd be in trouble for being late. There was nothing she could do about it though, so she just kept on pushing and kept on scowling. Usually her face was illuminated by her irresistibly bright smile, but today had been a bad day. She had gotten a decisively bad grade on her history essay, and failed a math quiz. It wasn't that she didn't like school; it was just that it didn't quite agree with her. It scared her to think that by the end of the year, her friends would be graduating yet she might fail and be left behind, left to repeat the endless days of boredom and struggle. There had been one good aspect of the day, though; her friend Carla Dixon had invited her for a sleepover on the weekend. The two girls had been friends for most of high-school, but hadn't really got that close. Recently, however, they had talked more often and become pretty close. Beth was excited to spend time with her friend. It wasn't something she usually got to do, since she was often busy helping her parents on the farm and studying to no avail. As Beth meandered down the road, she pondered how to convince her father to let her go. Hershel Greene was a strict parent, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it just meant Beth had to adapt to his narrow views on what a teenager should and shouldn't be allowed to do. Being late today probably wasn't the best way to start an evening of negotiations. As the sun frazzled the back of Beth's neck, she glanced up the road. It was drawing into the cover of the forest now, which thankfully meant both shade and nearing home. Near the sharp bend just beyond the tree line, Beth could see a person standing near the side of the road. A man. He was dressed in motorcycle gear, a helmet slung over his arm, and a leather jacket with patches and insignia suggesting he was part of some gang. His beat-up triumph motorcycle was parked next to him and he leaned casually against it. As Beth got closer, her suspicions were confirmed as she could read the largest emblem on the back of his jacket; The Wolves of the West. Beth's blood ran cold and she walked a little slower. Something her father had always taught her was to not judge a book by its cover, and she rarely gave in to prejudice. But the Wolves of the West were infamous in their little town and the stories she had heard didn't come from nowhere. Rumours of drug dealing and violence followed the members around and somehow, Beth knew that she should give this particular Wolf a wide berth. She didn't want to stop walking, so she quickened her step and drifted to the other side of the road. As she passed the biker, she couldn't help but look at his face. To her surprise, his eyes were full of tears and she realized he was standing in front of a commemorative cross by the edge of the road, some plastic flowers laid carefully by the wooden marker. The man's rugged face was a mixture of sadness and pensiveness. Suddenly, he whipped around and stared at Beth with piercing blue eyes behind his long fringe of russet hair.

"The fuck ya lookin' at?" His voice was rusty and gravelly, a low timbre with a southern lilt that rumbled from his terse mouth like a growl. Beth tried not to run, but she walked faster and kept her head pointed doggedly towards the ground as she walked past him. She didn't acknowledge his comment, just kept going until she could no longer feel those sharp eyes on her retreating back.

That night, Beth tried hard to scare up some brownie points. She had been in trouble for being late, but seeing as a flat tyre wasn't really her fault she only got a light scolding. All her chores were done without asking, and she even helped with dinner and offered to set the table, even though it was her sister Maggie's turn tonight. Now, as they sat contentedly around the dinner table, Beth tried to subtly steer the conversation towards staying over at Carla's.

"How was school, Bethy?" her father asked during a brief lull in the conversation.

"It was good," Beth smiled lightly. It wasn't a lie, not really, it was just avoiding certain aspects of the day. Like failing two assessments. She pushed her mashed potatoes around her plate and glanced around. Her family seemed pretty jovial at present, so she tentatively brought up her weekend plans. "Uh, my friend Carla asked me over this weekend," she added nonchalantly.

"Carla who?" Beth's mother, Annette, immediately asked.

"Carla Dixon."

"The Dixon boys are bad news," Hershel tutted between mouthfuls of roast chicken.

"Carla's brothers? I wouldn't know. She doesn't mention them," Beth said convincingly. Actually, Carla often complained about her older brothers. There was a large age gap between them and she found them and their questionable life choices lacking.

"I don't know Beth, I don't want you around those sorts of people," Annette muttered.

"Carla is a good friend of mine," Beth said indignantly.

"That may be, but her daddy and brothers earned themselves a bad name around here," Hershel sighed. "We aren't to judge others, but we can choose to keep away from people who don't share our values."

Beth scowled at her father's righteous attitude and pushed her dinner around her plate. This was not going to plan.

"I heard them Dixon boys held up the corner store last summer," Shawn, Beth's brother, piped up. Beth kicked him under the table.

"Yeah, I also heard about ten other people did that. They never caught 'em," Maggie dismissed him with a wink towards Beth. "You can't judge a family on hearsay, right?"

Beth nodded with a thankful smile towards her sister, glad that she always had her back.

"Go on dad, let her go. It's just a sleepover," Maggie pressed, making it sound like no big deal at all. In actual fact, Beth had never gone to a sleepover, and Maggie had only been allowed out once she turned nineteen. But Maggie had a way with words and convincing their father. After much deliberation and bargaining, Beth's parents finally conceded and agreed to let her accept Carla's invitation. Beth was overjoyed, but felt a new sense of nervousness at the rumours brought up about the Dixons. It was true that Carla was an odd girl, and Beth assumed her family must be just as odd.

Two days later, Beth stood in front of Carla's door with her heart in her mouth. The house was little more than a cabin about twenty minutes into the woods, and the paint was chipping away from the exterior. Rusty sheds and piles of junk, including a bunch of old cars and motorbikes were littered around the property, and a crossbow and other hunting gear was thrown carelessly by the front door. Beth was ashamed of her initial reaction; she disapprovingly assumed they were damn redneck hillbillies. She pushed that thought down as Carla opened the door with an excited yell and pulled Beth inside.

"Come in, come in," Carla sang, leading her into the house. It was actually pretty nice inside. Hunting trophies adorned the walls and rustic wooden furniture complimented the outdoorsy aesthetic they had going on. "Now, we got three movies to watch, and we could go fishing later, and did you still want help with that homework?" Carla babbled on excitedly.

"Um, yeah, sounds fun," Beth smiled. It was nice to see Carla's bubbly spirit break through, and it filled Beth with a similar enthusiasm for a whole weekend of hanging out. She still glanced around nervously, feeling a little out of place in the strange surroundings.

"Oh, if you wanna put your bag somewhere, my room's down there on the left," Carla pointed to a short hallway. Beth nodded and tip toed into the room to stash her bag. As she put it down, she heard the front door open and distinctly male voices rang through the house. Her heart quickened and she tried not to think about the plentiful rumours about the Dixon brothers. They were probably nice, ordinary people just like Carla. Beth steeled her nerves and walked back through to the living area where two figures sat at the oak table, talking to Carla who was ferreting through the fridge.

"An' who do we have here?" One of the guys turned around. He had a buzz cut, a silver beard and a sly grin and was obviously much older than Carla.

"Oh, Beth, these are my idiot brothers Merle and Daryl. Idiots, this is Beth," Carla chimed in as she approached with an armful of beers. The one called Merle winked merrily at her. The other brother turned around slowly. As he took a beer from Carla's arms, his eyes met Beth's and she immediately recognized the icy blue stare from only a few days ago. He wasn't wearing his jacket now, but she was absolutely certain it was the biker from the road. He flicked his long hair away from his eyes and pulled up the corner of his mouth in what could have been a smirk or a sneer. Beth gulped.

"H-hi," she stuttered. Carla offered her a beer nonchalantly, drinking one herself even though both girls were four years off the legal drinking age.

"C'mon, it's just beer," Carla wiggled the frosty bottle towards her.

"Oh, no thanks, I'm not supposed to drink," Beth said apologetically. She couldn't imagine what punishment would befall her if her parents found out, especially since her father's alcoholism was a constant strain on her family's happiness. Beth had grown to hate alcohol and its effect after witnessing what it did to her father.

"Ah well, no pressure," Carla smiled comfortingly. Daryl snorted. "Got something to say, dear brother?" Carla challenged him, their similar steely gazes meeting across the table.

"Jus' not like you to bring home squares," he grunted amusedly.

"Fuck you, Daryl. She's my best friend, so take it easy or fuck off," Carla replied loudly. Beth was a little taken aback by the harsh words, but they were said with a good-natured smile and Daryl chuckled upon hearing them. Beth assumed this was just how the siblings interacted, a more extreme version of her and Maggie's banter. The casual interactions actually made her feel more at ease and she felt a smile grow across her face.

"Ya wanna go fishin'?" Carla asked, leaping to her feet with sudden energy.

"Yeah, sure," Beth replied enthusiastically. "I'm not much good at it, though."

"I'll teach ya," Carla replied with a wave of her hand.

"You can't even catch a fuckin minnow, Carla," Merle cackled. "Take Daryl along, then we might have a chance at dinner."

Daryl's face was unreadable as he stood, but Beth had a feeling he wasn't too keen on joining them. He ruffled Carla's hair affectionately as he strode past them and began gathering fishing gear. Carla gave Beth an amused smile, apparently pleased, and led Beth outside.

"Damn lucky, he never wants to hang out with me anymore," Carla smirked as they stood on the porch. She handed Beth a cooler bag. "Here, carry this."

"What is it?" Beth grunted at the heavy weight of the bag.

"Bait and booze," Carla grinned mischievously. Normally, Beth would have been panicking at breaking the law but the Dixons had such a chilled attitude that she didn't give a second thought to carrying the alcohol.


	2. Ouch

**Authors note:** Omg thank you so much for the positive responses. Means so much to me and I can't wait to bring you more of this story! enjoy :)

They walked through the dense forest for ten minutes before they arrived at the creek. It was a few meters wide and pretty shallow, but the dark rushing water still promised to be teeming with life. Beth followed Carla to a gentle slope leading to the water, with a small jetty protruding into the water. It was cool and tranquil, and Beth sighed happily as the two girls dumped their bags on the grey sand.

"This place is so pretty," Beth smiled. Carla nodded modestly, as if Beth's approval was a direct compliment to herself. In some ways, it was. Beth knew that Carla took special joy in making sure other people were enjoying themselves. She liked to live vicariously through other's happiness, since she found it so hard to obtain her own.

"We gon' do some fishin' or what?" Daryl broke the silence as he dropped the bucket of fishing gear. Carla poked her tongue out at him, grabbed a hand reel, and began chopping up the frozen bait. Beth fidgeted awkwardly on her feet as she looked into the bucket filled with strange, foreign objects. "Ya need a hand?" Daryl growled at her. It was confusing, how gravelly his voice was, it almost sounded like annoyance, but his words and infliction all indicated that he was trying to be polite.

"I guess I do," Beth flushed embarrassedly. She avoided looking directly at the taller man, but she could feel his oceanic gaze on her like a trap. Daryl picked up a line and threaded some meat onto it.

"Dangle this in the water till ya git a fish," Daryl said as he handed it to her. He smiled with amusement, but not in a way that made Beth feel stupid. Instead she smiled as well and skipped to join Carla on the rickety jetty.

"Whoever catches the most gets to sit out of cleanin' the fish," Carla challenged.

"Yer' fuckin' on," Daryl called from further up the creek where he was expertly casting into a deeper segment of the water.

"Alright," Beth laughed. She tried to cast the line but it caught on the splintered wood of the jetty. Carla laughed uproariously as she helped to untangle it. She was a good sport and showed Beth how to properly throw the bait and hook into the middle of the water, where apparently all the fish liked to hang out. After half an hour of nothing but nibbles, Beth finally felt a tug on her line. "Hey, I got one! I freakin' got one!" she shrieked joyfully, yanking her line towards the bank. Both Daryl and Carla laughed at her childish cursing.

"Don't yank it, the fish'll let go. Ya gotta drag it slow," Daryl called from his perch up on a high bank. He sighed at Beth's blank look. "Wait, I'll help ya." He scrambled down the slope and approached the rickety jetty. It creaked under the weight of all three people and Carla cast an apprehensive grin at Beth as Daryl joined them. Beth almost squeaked with surprise as she felt a pair of sturdy arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Oh sure, help her out, not your own sister," Carla said in mock anger as she watched Daryl place his hands over Beth's.

"Like this," Daryl grunted. His calloused hands were rough against Beth's as he gripped them and showed her how to gently guide the snagged fish closer.

"Thanks," Beth blushed as he released her from his close hold to bend down and pick up the fish. Daryl dangled it in front of the girls' faces and Carla swatted it away with a snort.

"Nice one, this'll be good for dinner," Daryl grinned. He took out a large knife from his waistband and promptly decapitated the fish. Beth couldn't help but gasp a little. "Better than lettin' it suffocate," Daryl shrugged.

"I guess so," Beth replied. Daryl took the headless fish to their empty buckets and threw it inside. He reached for the cooler bag with his other hand and pulled out a bottle of liquor. Carla joined him and the siblings took turns chugging from the bottle while Beth watched uncomfortably from the jetty. She busied herself with baiting the hook and casting out her line again, politely declining Carla's offer of a sip. It just wasn't her idea of fun, and to be perfectly honest, being around drunk people made her nervous. Especially men, ever since those times her daddy had come home wasted and smashed up the living room, and her mom's face. It had been a while since he'd gotten so intoxicated that he'd turned violent, but she still vividly remembered going to school with a black eye and telling everyone that her horse had kicked her. Hershel didn't scare her, he was a loving father, and Beth was smart enough to instead develop her fear towards alcohol. However, neither Dixon seemed impaired by the large amounts of gin they were downing, so Beth didn't say anything. They returned to fishing in companionable silence, only broken by yahooing any time someone hooked a fish. Beth got pretty good at enticing the fish towards her bait and then snagging them with a flick of her wrist. She was having the time of her life until a particularly enthusiastic flick sent the hook flying back towards her and she threw up her arms out of reflex. It was a good idea in theory; the hook didn't end up stuck in her face or eye. But unfortunately, it did end up buried pretty deep in her palm. "Shit!" Beth cussed loudly. Carla looked up, probably about to congratulate her for swearing, but her face paled at the sight of blood dripping from Beth's hand.

"Oh, fuck! Daryl, get over here," Carla yelled. She looked away and held a hand to her mouth. "Jeez, that's nasty."

Beth giggled. "Don't tell me a tough girl like you is squeamish about blood," she chuckled.

"This is no time for jokes, Greene!" Carla replied with a groan, her eyes squeezed firmly shut.

"The fuck're you two playin' at?" Daryl joined the conversation as he strode calmly towards them. He stopped short at the sight of Beth's dripping hand.

"Daryl, make it stop," Carla screeched dramatically with a theatrical gesture to Beth's injury.

"Fuck, Beth, that's pretty bad," Daryl muttered as he snatched her hand and turned it over, examining every angle. Beth, startled by this sudden movement and the stinging pain, yanked it away with a yelp. Daryl frowned at her childish reaction. "C'mere, I've got somethin' for that," he sighed and waved his hand for Beth to follow him towards their bags. Beth trotted behind him apprehensively, her good hand clutched firmly over the hook that was protruding from her flesh. She tried not to think about it.

"Oh GOD," Carla added helpfully from an extreme distance. Daryl dug through one of the bags until he grunted triumphantly and turned around holding a large, intimidating pair of pliars folded out from a Swiss army knife. Beth swallowed and took a step back.

"Stop being such a pussy," Daryl scolded her, holding his hand out in a clear demand. Beth frowned and offered him her bleeding limb, her soft fingers trembling lightly. Daryl took it gently, more gently than Beth had anticipated, and peered at the hook. "S'okay, it's not that bad," he said comfortingly. "Ay. Look at me instead," Daryl insisted. Beth raised her eyes to meet his gaze and nodded. "Right, I'll pull it on three, kay? One…Two..-" Before he'd got to three, he deftly twisted the hook at a right angle and pulled.

"Shit!" Beth hissed with surprise, but the hook was out and Daryl held it heroically up to the sky with his pliars.

"Ew, put it away Daryl," Carla winced as she bravely walked forwards. "Yer allowed to say fuck, Beth. Its special circumstance."

Beth glanced around them as if she expected her parents to be watching, then covered her mouth and very quietly whispered, "Fuck." Daryl and Carla erupted with laughter and victorious clapping.

"We'll make a tough cookie out of you sometime, Beth," Daryl sniggered as he wrapped her hand with a short bandage. Beth smiled at him and thanked him, but he waved it away with a shy shrug.

"Daryl knows all about bein' tough, he's in a gang," Carla announced proudly. She looked at her brother with an envious, adoring gaze and Beth couldn't understand why she always complained about them if she obviously loved her brothers so much. It was different with Beth's siblings; they weren't allowed to speak badly of each other. Daryl glared at Carla's proclamation and turned away. "What? It's true," Carla shrugged.

"Ain't nothin' to brag about, Carla," Daryl sighed. It was obvious he wasn't as proud of his membership as you would expect a gang member to be. In fact, he appeared a little awkward about the whole thing.

"Well, I think it's pretty cool," Beth smiled shyly. It wasn't a complete lie, but she mostly said it because she was thankful for the older guy taking the time to wrap up her hand. Daryl hid a pleased smile as he shrugged again and walked back to his hill. Carla laughed and they returned to fishing for another hour or so. In the end, as the woods grew dusky, they had each collected a respectable amount of fish. Daryl offered to carry Beth's bucket as they walked back through the dim forest, but she politely declined. Truthfully, she was damn proud of all her fish and wanted to be the one that brought them triumphantly back. She lagged behind the two Dixons a little, taking her time to enjoy the beautiful scenery. Since they lived here, the siblings must have grown accustomed to it but Beth found the dense trees and mysterious shadows to be strangely alluring. Another alluring sight also caught her attention- Daryl's back. She stared without realizing at the curves of his muscles shifting under his button-up, and she cursed herself for not enjoying the brief moment earlier of being encircled by those arms. Beth caught herself and threw off that train of thought; she wasn't one to develop crushes easily, and she told herself it was probably just her vivid imagination that made her memorise each sinuous strand of skin moving underneath his stained shirt. Nothing more.

"Fish count," Carla sang as they arrived back at the quaint cabin. "I got nine."

"Five," Beth proclaimed proudly. Alright, so it wasn't as impressive as nine, but it was pretty good for a first attempt.

"Seven," Daryl said in a disgruntled tone. "Dunno how you got that many, Carla. Sure ya didn't cheat?"

"Hah! I fuckin' won, bitches! Have fun cleanin' all these fish together," Carla chuckled. Beth remembered their wager with a rush of tension. She looked nervously at Daryl, who was chucking all the fish into one bucket in resignation. He began walking around the side of the house. "G'on, give him a hand. I gotta start dinner," Carla encouraged Beth with a smile.

"Alright," Beth grinned and jogged to catch up with Daryl. He didn't say much, just tilted his head towards her and gave her an unreadable expression. She'd really have to figure out his facial code soon because right now, she didn't know whether to be excited or apprehensive about cleaning all the fish with him. Alone.


	3. Fishguts

Beth stared at the headless fish in her hands. She knew that the scales and organs had to be removed, but that was all she knew. Meanwhile, Daryl had already effortlessly prepared three fish in the rusty old sink behind the house. It was just outside the chain-link fence that cordoned off a backyard sort of area.

"Ya ain't gonna get it done jus' by lookin' at it," Daryl commented and he threw yet another perfectly butchered fish into a clean bucket.

"Um, I don't really know how to do it," Beth stuttered. Daryl blew the air through his teeth in a long-suffering manner and picked up another fish. He went through the motions slowly and obviously; scrape scales, knife down the belly, pull the guts out. Simple, in theory. Beth picked up her own knife and tried to mimic his actions. The scales made a wet grating noise as she scraped them off, and she was glad the heads were already removed so she didn't have to look the fish in the eye whilst she disfigured its corpse. Then, after juggling it around with her uninjured hand, she managed to slice down its underside. Guts, fish guts, spilled into the sink and she couldn't help a tiny squeal of disgust. Daryl snorted and tried very poorly to hide his amusement. "You think this is funny?" Beth said exasperatedly.

"Lil' bit," Daryl smirked. His grin was contagious and Beth had to stop herself from staring at the way it lit up his whole face. She snuck a few glances from the sides of her eyes while they worked. He didn't say much, only a few words now and then to correct her butchering technique. Really, he seemed a little awkward underneath his cocky attitude. Beth couldn't help herself beaming with pride when he gave her a simple compliment. He was just so alien to her, being a biker and all. She had never been very good at talking to boys, and Daryl was no exception, but he was slightly different as she found she actually wanted to talk to him. She just didn't know what to say. Their combined awkwardness lead to mostly silent, studious work. Beth had some trouble keeping the fish innards away from her bandage, much to her embarrassment.

"Don't worry, I'll change it when we're done," Daryl commented as Beth cursed under her breath when a piece of fish gut landed squarely on the bandage. In just a few hours around the Dixons, she had already begun to curse more freely. If she was honest, Beth kind of enjoyed it, but she made a mental note to stop as soon as she was back in the company of her family.

"What if fish guts get in it," Beth whined in disgust. Daryl chuckled.

"It don't matter, girl. They're clean fish guts," he said with a wicked grin at Beth's repulsion. "Uh, hold yer knife more like-" he broke off to reposition her hold on the blade, his fish covered hands still enjoyably warm and soft. "Like this," he finished. Beth's hand adjusted to the new grip, her skin tingling from the brief contact. They lapsed back into silence, but it felt like pausing in the middle of a conversation. Beth searched desperately for something to say.

"So, was it you I saw at Jefferson's road junction last Thursday?" Beth asked nonchalantly. She felt Daryl stiffen beside her and immediately regretted bringing it up. Daryl turned to her with an intense look, almost but not quite a glare, and put a firm hand over her arm.

"Listen up, buttercup." His voice was low, almost a growl. "Ya don't mention that, 'kay?" he said briskly. Beth nodded and shook his hand off.

"Sorry, I was just wondering," she muttered.

"Well, don't," Daryl snapped. Beth blushed uneasily and went back to scaling her fifth fish. She slipped and almost cut her finger, which she responded to with a sharp angry gasp. Daryl dropped his fish and crowded next to her, his eyes snapping to her hands. "Alright?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah, just this stupid thing getting in the way," Beth growled at her bandage. Daryl shook his head.

"I'll finish up, ya done a good job," he said earnestly. Beth begun to protest, gesturing to her prized bucket of fish, but he took none of it. "G'on, go get cleaned up. Don't need ya losing all of yer fingers in one day," Daryl snorted.

"Well, okay. Thanks," Beth sighed. She headed back inside the house, where Carla was chopping up some sort of vegetable and chatting to Merle, who was cleaning a long hunting rifle.

"How'd ya go?" Carla beamed expectantly.

"Alright. Daryl's just finishing up," Beth smiled back.

"Bathroom's through the back if ya wanna wash up," Carla motioned with her knife to the back of the house. Beth wandered through the corridor, looking at the framed pictures on the wall. They were covered in dust, as if no one really cared about them anymore. Ranging from pictures of small Dixon brothers with smiling parents all the way to an updated family portrait, Beth managed to piece together the complicated family history, with the help of what Carla had already told her. Daryl and Merle's parents had been married for a while, and had the two boys. When they were still just little kids, she'd died, Carla never said how. Anyway, that drove the boys' father to alcoholism and a decline in personality, although Carla also didn't talk much about her father, even when she came to school with that sad, distant look in her eyes. Beth was glad their father didn't seem to be home. More recent pictures showed a second marriage to Carla's mother, which apparently had ended badly a few years ago, and showed a tiny Carla following her older brothers around like a persevering shadow. The most recent picture looked like it had been taken a few months ago. It was a portrait of the Dixon brothers on their motorcycles, with Carla perched on Daryl's handlebars. It was a sweet image and made Beth smile. Her eyes lingered on it as she continued down the corridor, which unfortunately meant she wasn't looking where she was going. She collided with an approaching figure. Hard.

"Jesus christ," Daryl grunted at the force. He'd almost dropped the bucket of skillfully prepared fish he was carrying, evidently having brought them in from the back door.

"Oh, sorry," Beth blushed. Daryl stepped back and chewed his lip thoughtfully.

"C'mon, I'll fix yer hand properly," he finally said, motioning for Beth to follow him. He lead the way to a small, modest bathroom. It was so small that Beth's elbows nearly bumped his side as she washed her fish-covered hands. She was acutely aware of his presence as Daryl casually opened a box and pulled out some gauze. He reached for Beth's injured hand but she stretched it just out of reach.

"Do you know what you're doing?" she asked dubiously.

"Of course, I been patchin' people up for years," Daryl snorted. Beth didn't question further, as she assumed he meant patching up his gang associates after their violent forays. "C'mon, I don't bite," Daryl said with an incorrigible grin. Beth almost skipped a breath and she wasn't sure what to make of the comment. Was he being flirtatious or just messing around to settle her? She hesitantly offered her hand. The barbs of the fish hook had ripped out a fair amount of flesh and she hissed at the sting of the Betadine. Daryl ignored her complaints and cleaned it up good and proper, his adept hands wrapping another bandage around it in seconds. It was wrapped just tight enough to stay in place, but not so tight that it was uncomfortable. Beth wiggled her fingers.

"Thanks Daryl, that's great," she smiled sweetly at him. He nodded back and paused for a moment, nervously fidgeting.

"Uh, sorry I snapped at ya before." He stumbled over his own words. Beth looked at him in surprise. She had assumed he'd probably just forget about it, much less apologize.

"That's alright," Beth stuttered, feeling almost as awkward as Daryl looked. They were saved from any further comment by Carla yelling something about hurrying up and bringing the god damn fish before they decomposed.

Dinner was nice. Pleasant, even. It took a while for Beth to adjust to the Dixon's harsh mannerisms, but underneath she recognized their true easy-going natures. Merle was slightly off-putting with his crude remarks and offensive jokes, but that was balanced out by the laughable banter exchanged between Carla and Daryl. Beth could see that they were pretty close, perhaps since they were a little closer in age. She found herself agreeing with Carla, though; Daryl was definitely the more likeable of the two brothers. And more eye-catching, Beth thought to herself. She disrupted that train of thought before it could interfere with the light conversation being had. Carla was telling some sort of story about falling off her bike into a ditch filled with snakes, which sounded unconvincing, but was nonetheless entertaining. Overall, Beth was having a pretty good time. That was until the front door slammed open, then shut, and the worst man she had ever seen walked into the cabin.


	4. Crush

Beth's cutlery clattered as it fell from her hands. An unnerving hush fell over Dixon siblings as they took in the sight of the intruding man, who Beth could only assume was their father. He was tall, and had Merle's sneer, but the most confronting thing about his appearance was the blood dripping from his face. It was all over him, spattered across his Wolves of the West jacket and his tall cowboy boots. No one said anything for a full minute while he casually scraped off those boots and hung the bloody jacket by the front door.

"Thought ya were staying out tonight?" Merle spoke up, an uncharacteristically hesitant note in his rasping voice.

"Got in a fight with some assholes," the imposing man shrugged. It was an exact mirror of Daryl's characteristic, but Beth felt that there was a more confrontational meaning behind it. "Who the hell is this?" He slurred. Beth didn't look at him. She stared resolutely into her plate.

"Daddy, this is my friend Beth. Remember I said she was staying over?" Carla explained calmly. "And Beth, this is my father Will. Please excuse the state he's in," she added quietly with an apologetic smile.

"Ya ain't gonna get me a fuckin' plate?" Will snapped in response, stumbling over to the table. He sat at the head of the table and glared at the two brothers. Beth noticed how Daryl leant away from his father and kind of curled in on himself, his arms crossed defensively. Carla meekly served her father a plate of food, and a tense silence fell as he started eating. Beth could smell the alcohol and she emulated the Dixon siblings' anxiety.

"You, uh, get hurt?" Merle asked. Daryl was silent and his face was set with a stubborn glare, and Carla had sat back down as quietly as she could.

"Naw, of course not. Get me a fuckin' drink," Will slurred aggressively. Merle passed him a bottle of scotch and a glass, but the older man just drank straight from the bottle. Carla bit her lip "The fuck y'all lookin' at?" he roared suddenly, slamming the bottle back on the table. Understandably, Beth jumped out of her skin.

"Cut it out dad, we got company," Daryl spoke up for the first time since his father had walked in. He glared venomously at Will. Carla sucked in her breath apprehensively.

"You don't mind, do ya sweetheart?" Will scoffed at Beth. "Here, have a drink," he waved the bottle of whiskey towards her.

"Oh, no thanks Mr Dixon," Beth replied politely.

"Hear that, Carla? She's got some fuckin' manners," Will hissed savagely towards his daughter. Beth glanced nervously at her friend's downcast face. "Have just a sip," he slurred persistently, trying to hand the bottle to Beth.

"Quit it dad, yer upsettin' her," Daryl sighed in annoyance. Will sneered at his son, his face looking like something out of a horror movie with all the dried blood stuck to his skin and clumped in his beard.

"Watch your mouth, Daryl, or we'll have some problems," Will whispered dangerously. Daryl stood up with such force that his chair skittered backwards over the floorboards and toppled over. Beth squeezed the hand that Carla offered her.

"Carla, take Beth to ya room," Daryl growled softly. The girls readily agreed and hustled out of the room. They closed Carla's door so only a crack remained, through which angry words were soon pouring. Carla sighed.

"Sorry Beth, I thought he'd be out. I wouldn't have asked you over if I knew he'd be here," she said apologetically.

"It's alright Carla, I don't mind," Beth smiled reassuringly. "Is he always like that, though?"

Carla groaned. "Only when he's drunk, so yeah, most of the time."

"My daddy used to be the same," Beth admitted. She hadn't told Carla her family's secret before, mostly because she was a little embarrassed to admit it. Carla tilted her head in surprise.

"Your father's so nice, though," Carla said in shock.

"Now he is, yes. But trust me, I know what it's like," Beth sighed.

"That's why we're friends Bethy, you really get me," Carla smiled.

They spent few hours in Carla's room, painting nails and watching bad movies. Beth had had friends before, but not one like Carla. In the past, her friends had been superficial and had only stuck around for a few months. The common ground between her and Carla seemed to fast track their friendship, and though it had been only weeks since they started hanging out it was already easy to spend time together. Later, as Beth tried to fall asleep on the creaky mattress they had shoved onto Carla's floor, she wondered how someone as good as Carla could come from a family like this. Immediately she felt guilty for that disparaging thought; after all, not everyone was as lucky as her and everyone had their own pasts to deal with. But still, Carla was so nice and innocent compared to her father and brothers. Maybe not Daryl, though, Beth reminded herself. He was alright, underneath that gruff, glaring exterior. Yeah, he was pretty sweet and talking to him made Beth's stomach knot up in a good way. Daryl and Carla were real diamonds in the rough, two unusually bright gems amid all the dirt and, for want of a better word, redneckness. Beth's final thought as she fell asleep was of how lucky she felt to be the one to discover those diamonds.

Late. It was late. Beth awoke with a jump, momentarily startled by her unfamiliar surroundings. But after a moment she registered Carla's sleeping form on the single bed, and she began to recognise the shapes and forms of Carla's room. Clothes piled up outside the closet. Books scattered on the nightstand. In the corner, a pine desk where piles of homework lay stacked and unfinished. At least they were on the same page there; neither girl particularly enjoyed their education. Carla was significantly more gifted, though, a fact that Beth never held against her, instead grateful that she shared her knowledge. The walls of Carla's room were rough wooden boards that gave off a pleasant resin smell, and they were covered with posters from popular TV shows and 80s bands. Beth rubbed her eyes. The only source of light was the moon pouring in the window. The heat of the room made Beth kick of her heavy blanket and she wished she had some water. It seemed like an intrusion, to wander around Carla's house while she was sleeping, but Beth was desperate for a drink so she crept out of the room. The door had a squeaky hinge, but her socked feet were quiet as she padded down the hallway. A light above the kitchen was on which allowed her to tip toe over to the sink. She filled a mug with water and drunk it slowly, trying not to make a sound. It was good water, cold and fresh, better than the tap water at her house. She supposed it wasn't the council's water, which was filled with who-knows-what and tasted like crap. No, this was much purer and she relished the refreshing taste. It all seemed to be going to plan, until a voice slurred behind her and made her jump so hard she nearly dropped the mug.

"Help yourself then, sweetheart," Will's nasal voice echoed. Beth held her breath and put the mug down.

"I'm sorry sir, I just wanted a drink and Carla was asleep and-,"

"I'm jus' teasin', darlin'," Will chuckled darkly. "You should try something stronger." Again, he offered the bottle of scotch. It was almost empty, and Beth could easily deduce that Will had drunk most of it.

"No, th-thanks," Beth stuttered nervously. She didn't like the way he blatantly ignored her words and let his eyes wander her figure. She suddenly wished she was wearing more than her short pyjamas. Her skin crawled.

"C'mon," Will's voice grew deeper and more commanding. He shook the bottle towards her but Beth stepped back with a squeak. Will's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yer a jumpy one, ain't ya," he smirked humourlessly. Beth gave up talking to the obviously inebriated man and backed away slowly, towards the hallway. Unfortunately, for the second time that night, she bumped into the immovable mass of Daryl's torso.

"What the fuck's going on?" Daryl grumbled sleepily, a bottle held loosely at his side. Great, so alcoholism ran in the family, then. Beth tried not to stare at her friend's brother, but it was hard to avert her eyes from the skin exposed by his loose, ripped tank top. Very loose. Very revealing. Beth was snapped back to the moment by Will's voice raising in volume.

"I'm jus' talkin' to Carla's friend, son," Will growled. "Not that it's yer business."

"Fuck's sake, dad," Daryl sighed. "Yer pissed an' yer scarin' her," he said loudly and slowly, like he was talking to an imbecile. He snatched the bottle from his father's hand and gave Beth a comforting half-smile.

"Shit Daryl, quit sayin' that. She's jus' jumpy," Will scoffed. "Like a lil' jack-rabbit." His words were slurring and mixing together so that it was hard to understand, but the general sentiment still got across.

"I-it's okay, I'll just go back to bed," Beth stuttered with a nervous smile.

"Nah, don't let the bastard order ya around," Daryl muttered to her as he poured the scotch down the sink, much to Will's dismay. "Tell him to fuck off, if ya like."

Beth's eyes widened. "Uh, it's alright, really." Daryl turned to her with an evaluating gaze. Beth tried to ignore his piercing look and turned to Will. "Goodnight Mr Dixon, and thank you for having me as a guest," she smiled sweetly. She turned on her heel and strode away before he could respond, her heart beating a mile a minute. Once outside Carla's door, she leaned thankfully against it and sighed.

"Ya forgot thi-"

"Jesus christ!" Beth yelped, interrupting Daryl's quiet voice. He was holding out her unfinished mug of water and he took a step back at her extreme reaction. "Sorry, you startled me," Beth said with a quiet chuckle.

"Sorry." Daryl paused and Beth could feel his eyes on her. It was different from the way Will had leered at her. Sure, her skin still crawled, but in a nice way. Daryl's eyes elicited tingles as they traced lines down her body and she half wished he would follow those lines with his rough hands. She thought briefly of how rough, yet warm, they had been, so comforting yet with an air of danger. "Hope my old man didn't bother ya," Daryl added, voicing it almost as a question. He had a concerned look on his face but also a surprised one, as if he was shocked that Beth knew how to handle his inebriated father better than he did.

"No, he's fine," Beth smiled back. She could hardly bring herself to look at his face, feeling her cheeks heat with an obvious blush at the slightly inappropriate thoughts she inevitably developed because of that damn loose tank top. She unconsciously bit her lip as she wondered if his skin would be warm, or how firm his muscles were, or even what his tattoos looked like underneath the flimsy cotton. She snapped back to reality, aware that Daryl was shifting awkwardly on his feet. It was a little hypocritical, Beth thought, that he was uncomfortable under her scrutiny yet let his own eyes wander freely around her figure. That was men for you though, hypocritical perverts. Toned, tattooed, perverts. Beth's mind began to wander and she hastily bid Daryl goodnight before things could get too weird between them.

"G'night, Beth," Daryl replied with an sagacious smirk, leaving Beth to creep back into Carla's room with a face more red than the fish guts they had been handling earlier. As much as she loved Carla and appreciated their friendship, Beth now had an ulterior motive for wanting to hang out. And that ulterior motive was Daryl fuckin' Dixon. Beth cursed her inability to control her feelings but damn, that smirk had set a fire inside her that wasn't going out anytime soon.

The next morning, Carla and Beth rolled out of bed at an unspeakable hour and spent the morning (verging on midday) making pancakes. The brothers drifted around the house, sometimes stopping to annoy the girls or steal the deliciously burnt pancakes they so lovingly crafted. Beth couldn't help notice Daryl smirking at her and dropping an occasional wink when he knew Carla wasn't looking. Beth blamed her red face on the heat of the stove, despite Carla's suspicious look. Will Dixon was thankfully nowhere to be found, and with just the Dixon siblings around, Beth found the atmosphere enjoyably light-hearted and fun. Heck, she hadn't had this much fun in ages, since she usually spent most weekends alone with her homework and chores as her only companions. After a few hours, she sighed and checked her phone. Shit. Five missed calls from her father, and one from Maggie.

"I uh, I gotta make a call," Beth apologized to Carla as she stepped out the front door. She dialed her father's number and turned down the volume of her phone in preparation for the loud lecture that was sure to follow. "Hi daddy," she said cheerfully, hoping her positive attitude would influence his mood as well.

"Beth, I've been calling for hours," Hershal's firm voice was pixilated by the poor signal.

"Sorry daddy, we were makin' pancakes. Yes. Yeah. Okay, I'll be home in half an hour," Beth sighed and hung up the phone.

"Everything okay?" Carla asked earnestly as Beth stomped back inside.

"Yeah, sorry, I gotta head home now. Daddy's truck is in the shop and he asked if I could get a lift from you?" Beth smiled with a wince. She hated asking for favours.

"I'll drive ya," Daryl interjected into the conversation, his rough voice peaked with humor at Beth's blush.

"Thanks Daryl, that would be great," she smiled. It was frustrating, how three totally commonplace words from him could set off her betraying cheeks. Maybe it was that rasping voice, but Beth told herself she was being immature and stupid. "Get it together, Greene," she whispered under her breath.

After she had packed her things and said goodbye to Carla, making sure to emphasise her thanks for the good time, Beth stood nervously outside and looked around for Daryl. She found him waiting in the garage, arm deep in the engine of an old motorcycle.

"Oh, are you busy? I can wait," Beth said.

"Nah, s'okay. Jus' passin' time," Daryl said with a wink. Beth couldn't decipher the meaning behind those teasing winks; was he messing with her or legitimately flirting? Or maybe just being friendly? Beth was confused by his new attitude towards her and she almost wished he would go back to gruffly ignoring her. He stood and wiped his hands on a rag hanging from his pocket. Twisting the key of the ignition brought the motorbike roaring to life and he let out a victorious laugh.

"Uh, we're not going on that, are we?" Beth said apprehensively. Daryl smirked.

"Why, that bother ya?" he chuckled at her nervous reaction. "Don't worry girl, we'll take the truck."

The truck, like most of the Dixon's things, was pretty old and rusty, yet reliable. Its gears made a grating sound and the windscreen was slightly cracked, but Beth appreciated its vintage appearance and underneath the rust, it was a delightful sky blue. They drove in awkward silence, broken only by the radio which was blaring some old classic rock. It was obvious where Carla got her music taste from, if this was what she'd been listening to all her life. Beth snuck glances at Daryl from the corner of her eye, blushing when he caught her looking. She didn't feel embarrassed because he caught her, more because she was too shy to do anything else but look away. She cursed her shyness, but maybe it was a blessing. After all, as she had to keep reminding herself on numerous occasions, this was Carla's brother and he was much too old for her, not to mention he was a biker. And, no matter how non-judgemental Beth tried to be, she was still a little scared of that side of him. The Wolves of the West were, as Carla so eloquently put it, absolutely not to be fucked with. Ever.

"Here y'are," Daryl grunted after the excruciatingly awkward 20 minute drive.

"Thanks for the ride, Daryl. And for having me this weekend," Beth smiled politely as she jumped out with her bag in hand.

"No worries, darlin'," Daryl winked one last time before driving away. Beth watched as the battered blue truck crawled down their driveway. She didn't want to go inside, not yet. She wanted to savour this moment, this weekend, for as long as possible, savour her palpitating heartbeat and burning cheeks. Because yeah, Daryl was probably just teasing her, probably found her childish crush amusing and immature. But hey, a girl could dream, and dreaming was one of Beth's fortes.


	5. On The Back Of His Bike

Over the next few weeks, Beth spent every single weekend with Carla. No matter how often they saw each other, it was always like a new experience. They stayed at Beth's place a few times, since Carla was obsessed with Beth's farm lifestyle, but mostly they went to Carla's. One, because with Will Dixon barely ever around it was a supervision-free paradise, and two, because Beth wanted to see Daryl almost as much as she wanted to see Carla. Most weekends they would fish, or hike, and then spend the evening goofing around. The Dixon brothers often took part in their little adventures, mostly to make sure they didn't get into trouble. Carla often commented on the fact that Daryl hung out with her far more often than he used to. But the real turning point in Beth's friendship with the Dixons came one cloudy afternoon as she and Carla walked out the school gates.

In the parking lot, a small crowd had gathered a respectful distance from two figures on rumbling motorbikes, the exhausts filling the air with an atmospheric fog. Carla grinned at Beth at immediately ran towards them, pulling her along. Beth had to admit, she enjoyed the envious and surprised looks cast their way from the other school kids as she and Carla approached the bikers. They were wearing Wolves of the West jackets, and Beth instantly recognized Daryl's oceanic eyes behind his helmet visor. She couldn't help but grin.

"Want to come over?" Carla turned to her with a hopeful smile. Beth gulped and looked apprehensively at the glistening metal death-traps. In truth, she was terrified at the thought of pelting down the narrow country roads, but it would be fun to hang out with Carla for a few hours. Against her better judgement, she nodded.

"Jump on," Daryl said, placing a helmet on her head. His fingers grazed her neck as he adjusted the strap, and Beth could feel the eyes of her classmates watching her with utter disbelief. She loved it. Daryl laughed at her wide grin and knocked the top of her helmet as she clumsily swung a leg over the bike and jumped up behind him. Carla, already seated on Merle's bike, gave her a gleeful thumbs-up which Beth returned with a giggle. "Hold on tight, 'kay?" Daryl warned her as he twisted the throttle, sending a roar of life throughout the bike's metal framework. He didn't have to tell her twice, and she gladly flung her arms around his torso. His broad back was so close to her face, and their legs touched momentarily as Beth found somewhere to rest her feet. Their closeness, the roar of the bike, and everyone's eyes on them, gave her an instant rush of adrenaline. But it was nice, it was thrilling, and as they began to move her heart beat almost out of her chest. She clung to Daryl with a squeal of excitement as he revved the engine, building up speed as they roared past the school buildings. Beth let one arm go to flash her shocked classmates a peace sign as the two motorbikes swiftly carried them away. She could feel each movement Daryl made as he expertly guided the bike down the main road. The road seemed so close, almost close enough to reach down and trace her fingers over the rough cracks in the asphalt, but it was tearing past faster than her eyes could follow. The speed worried her a little so she turned her attention to Daryl's back. The Wolves of the West logo was embroidered beautifully across his leather jacket, showing a wolf's head with a gun in its mouth and a compass hanging around its neck, obviously pointing west. The scripture around it, as well as denoting the name, was something about "protecting the pact of the pack". Daryl had a million other patches, but she couldn't make them out because they were sandwiched so close together on the faded leather seat of the bike. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Carla fooling around on the back of Merle's bike with her arms out to the side, flapping like a giant ungainly bird. She smiled as Carla caught her gaze and made a silly face that was mostly obscured by the visor. The ride only lasted fifteen or so minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime and Beth once again was caught up in her appreciation for knowing the Dixons. Other folk around town just blew them off as another hick family, but Beth saw something much more in them. Loyalty, happiness, support. In terms of what a family should be, Beth saw them as a perfect model. Not Will Dixon, perhaps, but he was barely around. The Dixon siblings, in her opinion, were a better family unit then even her own. Sure, her family was close-knit and inclusive, but it felt forced and fake, like none of them would be there if they could help it. Maggie was always off with her new boyfriend Glenn most of the time, her father spent most of his time at the vet clinic, and her older brother was already planning on moving to another state. No, her family was held together with outdated morals and obligations, but the Dixons were together because they actually wanted to be. Beth knew the brothers could have left at any point, especially with a father like Will, but they stuck together with their little sister. In Beth's opinion, that meant more than having family dinners every weeknight. Once they arrived at the Dixon property, Beth pulled off her helmet and handed it to Daryl with a grin.

"Thanks," she said shyly, trying to hide the extent of her enjoyment.

"Ya didn't have t'hold on quite so tight, ya know," he grinned back, dramatically rubbing his ribcage. "Nearly squeezed me in half."

"Oh, sorry, I just- I never rode before, and-"

"Nah kid, I'm just teasing," Daryl chuckled good-naturedly, rubbing her helmet hair as he walked past to wheel the bike towards the garage. Beth stared after him with a perturbed expression.

"Oi shit-for-brains, quit teasin' her," Carla yelled after her brother. She threw an arm around Beth as they walked back to the house. "He's an idiot, but he only jokes around with people he likes," Carla added with an omniscient grin.

Like always, they headed down to their fishing spot. And like always, it wasn't long before Daryl joined them. He always walked so quietly through the woods that neither girl could hear him coming, and he delighted in surprising them by jumping out from behind the dense underbrush with a yell. Usually, it didn't work because Carla had become accustomed to it over the years, but on this day Beth happened to be closer. She startled away with a yell of surprise at the sudden noise and brandished the bait-cutting knife towards him.

"Dammit, Dixon! Quit bein' childish," she shouted angrily as the shock passed.

"What, ya gonna stab me now?" Daryl chuckled as she lowered the blunt weapon. He held up his hands in a sincere surrender.

"I just might, Daryl. Fuck you," she said, echoing his laughter.

"Yes, Beth, yes! Finally, we got a fuck out of ya!" Carla whooped with excitement. "Oh, that sounded slightly perverted, but ya get what I mean," she laughed, elbowing Beth in the ribs. They spent hours by the river, fishing and laughing. Beth turned her phone off after the first three calls from her mother. No doubt she was in trouble for texting that she wouldn't be back till later. Honestly, she felt more at home here than she would have at the farm, and going back was just a dark cloud on the horizon. It wasn't that her home was horrible; it was just so mundane compared to this. Finally, as dusk began to fall over the woods, Beth stood and reeled her line in.

"Hey guys, I better head home," she said with a heavy note of regret in her voice.

"Shit, really?" Carla whined sadly.

"I'll take ya," Daryl offered. Beth thought she could hear a sense of resignation in his voice as well, but she may have been imagining things. The walk back was silent, all three caught up in their own thoughts, but still together and present in the moment. The twilight ambience made it hard to see where the trail was, and Beth found herself tripping and bumping into Daryl more than a few times. Eventually, he grunted in annoyance and grabbed her hand, leading her safely around any obstacles in their path. Either he had memorized the trail or just had really good night vision, but Beth didn't trip again. His hand was just draped easily over the back of hers; it wasn't like their fingers were intimately wound together, but Beth was thankful that the growing darkness hid her blazing cheeks. After sharing a sorrowful goodbye hug with Carla, Beth and Daryl meandered slowly towards the garage. Daryl reached for the truck keys but Beth stopped him with a tug on his sleeve.

"No! I mean, uh, the bike…" Beth trailed off. Daryl's wolfish grin irresistibly spread from ear to ear.

"Ya sure? Thought ya didn't like bikes," Daryl asked playfully.

"I do. Please, Daryl," Beth asked quietly. If she was to return to her boring life at the farm, she wanted one last taste of that timeless freedom that the bike gave. Daryl shrugged and nodded, handing her a helmet as he switched on the engine.

"Since ya asked so nicely, darlin'," he smiled kindly. "You're really somethin' else, Beth Greene," Daryl muttered as she climbed on behind him. They sped into the almost complete darkness, the motorbike's single headlamp forging a path of light on the dust-covered street. Beth closed her eyes, taken away by the roar of the bike, and leant happily against Daryl's back. Right now, in this moment, she could pretend that this- that HE- was her life, and that everything was okay. She could pretend that her life was going somewhere, that she was happy at home, that her family loved her, that her father wasn't drinking again. She could pretend that all there was to life was the Dixon siblings and endless sunny days wandering the woods together. She forgot it all as they glided across the asphalt easily, starlight falling from cracks between clouds and shining off the metal chassis of the bike. Daryl's jacket smelt like whiskey and campfire smoke, and Beth didn't want to peel herself away from the warmth even as they slowed down near her house. She reluctantly let go and swung off the bike.

"Thankyou, Daryl," she smiled sadly. Maybe it was the shadow of sorrow behind her eyes, or just the ambience of the night air, but something made Daryl lean towards her and draw her into a tight hug. It was even better than Beth had been imagining; his arms encircled her completely, squeezing joy back into her veins, and his hands protectively gathered her head into the crook of his neck. Beth breathed him in, tried to snapshot the moment in her mind, but it was over too soon for her liking.

"Anytime you need a ride, Bethy. Anytime," Daryl smiled back. Beth nodded and watched him drive away, roaring up the driveway in a cloud of dust. Maybe he knew what it was like to not feel like home was…home. Maybe he saw the wistful way she watched the Dixon siblings' interactions. Maybe he knew that her life wasn't as picture-perfect as everyone thought it was. Maybe.

"Beth! Good lord, where have you been!?" her father's voice rang out from the porch. Beth sighed. Back to reality, back to her life and family. But she still had that ride to remember. She couldn't help smile a little, even as her parents began to lecture as soon as she got close enough to hear.

"We were so worried! And now you turn up on the back of a motorbike? Was that one of those Dixons?" her father said sternly.

"This is just not on, Beth Greene," her mother added with an anxious, angry tone to her voice. When Daryl had called her by her full name, it had made her blush and smile for some unknown reason. Hearing it from her mother's mouth seemed like an insult to that memory and Beth growled in annoyance.

"Yes, that was Daryl Dixon. He happens to be a nice guy, just like my best friend Carla. Yeah, best friend," Beth hissed back. "I know you wish I was friends with those sickeningly sweet girls from church, but I ain't, because they don't give a shit about me. Not like the Dixon's do," she snarled. As soon as the curse word left her mouth, she knew she'd gone a little far.

"Those Dixons are changing you, Beth. I don't want you to see them anymore," Hershel sighed. Beth protested but he silenced her with a glare. "Not until you learn to behave responsibly."

"Daddy, they're my only friends," Beth argued tearfully. "They're my family."

"No, Beth, we are your family. And you'll learn to act respectfully to us. Look at the life we're giving you. And you're throwing it away with those people, Beth. You're not going to graduate if you keep this up!" Her mother added unhappily.

That was it. That was the last straw. In minutes, her parents had stirred up every worry that she had just got rid of on that bike ride. Beth turned and ran to her room, slamming the door shut. She didn't open it for the rest of the night, even when Maggie came knocking. She thought about how she felt right now, so alienated and alone, and how it was the exact opposite of the exhilaration of being at Carla's.

That weekend, she wasn't allowed to visit Carla. They still spent every minute texting, of course, venting their family-related complaints to each other at great length. Apparently Merle and Daryl had gone off for some Wolves of the West meeting, so both girls were alone and pissed. Beth felt a little guilty for insinuating that she preferred the Dixon's over her own family, so she worked hard at her chores and helping around the farm. In the afternoon, Hershel asked if she wanted to ride into town with him to run errands. She agreed, if only because she needed to top up the credit on her phone so she and Carla could resume their tirades. The trip was mostly boring, the small town offering not much in the way of entertainment. They stopped at the feed store, the post-office, and picked up a few groceries. But as they were driving down the main street, Beth saw a sight that would have once sent a thrill of horror through her but now made her smile gleefully. A row of motorbikes lined up outside the town's only tavern. The wolves, no doubt.

"Daddy, can we stop for some food?" Beth asked nonchalantly. Hershel nodded with a smile; apparently she had been forgiven for her transgression earlier that week. They pulled into the car park and walked inside. Hershel tutted loudly and disapprovingly at the sight of many, many Wolves clad in their leather jackets and sporting tattooes on most of their exposed flesh. Beth scanned the crowd as they took a seat by the window. Finally, with a rush of joy, she spotted Daryl and Merle sitting at the corner. It took a while for them to notice her but once they did, they shot her equally joyful looks and, in Daryl's case, a playful wink. Beth and her father ate their meal while talking about the farm, but all her attention was on those bikers sitting at the bar. They were pretty rowdy, and seemed to be holding a meeting of some kind. Money swapped hands furtively, and Beth tried not to look too closely at what the Dixon's were taking part of. Her insight into their life had made her less judgemental, sure, but still…gangs made her nervous. Simple as that. There was a cloud of suspicion and recklessness surrounding the Wolves of the West and she remembered Carla's advice; do not fuck with. Ever. Although they glanced her way now and then, the Dixon's made no move to talk to her, no doubt because of her father's presence. Beth assumed Carla had told them everything, since Carla was not known for keeping things quiet. As the two girls exchanged texts, Beth smiled at her friend's caps-locked response when she found out Beth was watching the Wolves hold their gathering. After they were done eating, Hershel excused himself to the washroom so Beth waited outside, truck keys in hand. But she didn't sit in the truck; she stood outside the tavern directly in front of Daryl's familiar beat-up triumph. Sure enough, within minutes she heard approaching footsteps.

"Hey, Beth," Merle's rasping voice greeted her cheerfully. "Tell ya what, Carla's missing ya somethin' awful."

"Sorry for getting' ya in trouble," Daryl smiled apologetically.

"It's alright, I had it coming. All on me," Beth sighed. "So what're you two up too?"

"Gang shit. Wolves business, ya know," Merle winked conspiratorially. Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, payin' membership ain't exactly a secret, ya idiot," he grunted in amusement. Beth smiled. "We missed havin' ya around this weekend," he added. We. Not Carla, we. Beth tried not to show her confusing happiness that he missed her, she just shrugged.

"Trust me, if I could have come, I would," she grimaced, gesturing inside to where her father was paying their bill.

"Don't worry, we get'cha," Daryl winked. Again, Beth couldn't read the meaning of heis wink, but that didn't stop her from blushing profusely. "Anyway, we were just headin' back. See ya soon, Bethy?" he asked. She nodded confidently, even though her father had made no mention of when the Dixon ban would be lifted. As the two brothers rode away, she found herself staring wistfully after them and wishing she was on the back of those bikes. The whole drive home, she tried to envision being on Daryl's bike again. Wind rushing over her skin, road racing by, Daryl's presence an unmoving anchor she could hold onto. Beth realised she didn't care that he was a Wolf. He was Daryl, and that was good enough for her. Every part of him, his gruffness, his teasing, his insecurities, she adored. Daryl was more than good enough for her, and FUCK what anyone else said about the Dixons. They were hers. Beth smiled to herself as her phone buzzed with another of Carla's updates. Yeah, the Dixons were hers, as much as she was theirs.


	6. Take Me Away

At school, Beth became famous by association. Since their public foray with two gang members, she and Carla had elevated to the equivalent of school celebrities. People she didn't even know began saying hi to her in the hallways and the kids who teased her for her low grades had backed off without her even saying anything. It was a nice distraction from the imminent shitstorm that was about to hit Beth's educational life. The semester break was coming up soon and it didn't look like she was going to pass. Her report was due to be sent home any day and she spent most afternoons racing to check the mail before her parents could. On the last day of school, a chilly Friday, Carla announced she was having a pre-holidays party at her house on the weekend. They hadn't had a weekend together for three weeks now, and Beth's heart fell at the thought of Carla partying it up with other people instead of her. It wasn't like her to be jealous, but she was. Very.

"Just talk to your parents. They'll let you come, they have to," Carla tried to convince her as they walked out of the school gates.

"I'll try my best," Beth smiled sadly.

"You sure you don't want a lift?" Carla offered, jabbing her thumb towards the waiting motorbikes.

"No, I better not. Don't wanna be crucified," Beth joked. Still, she felt all the more bitter as she unlocked her bike and started the long pedal home. It was so cold that by the time the farm's driveway was in sight, her nose had gone numb. If she had been on Daryl's bike, that wouldn't be a problem, she thought sourly. Damn protective parents, they just didn't understand the Dixons like she did. After the long, arduous ride home Beth's resentment towards her parents was at an all-time high. They had never spent a minute with the Dixons, and now she was meant to believe what they said about "protecting" her. Bullshit, utter bullshit. Beth's fuming mind raced as she walked in the front door, already planning what arguments and rejoinders to use so that she could weasel her way into Carla's party tomorrow. All those thought were instantly ditched as she rounded the corner and saw her parents and Maggie sitting at the table with their arms folded and a ripped envelope on the table.

"Beth, we should talk," Maggie began seriously.

"What the hell? I just got home," Beth groaned. Her parents winced at her language and shared a disapproving look. "Oh, grow up. I can say hell if I want to," Beth snapped. It had been a long day and her family really weren't doing themselves any favours in winning back her affection. She was sick and tired of their nagging, pretentious interference in her life.

"Why didn't you mention you were failing all your classes?" Her mother asked, eyebrows raised in a condescending way. Beth paused for a moment and collected her thought with a deep breath, in case she started yelling.

"I am doing my best, which should be enough," she managed to say calmly.

"Well it's not enough," Hershel shook his head. "You know, I bet this is because of those Dixons."

That was it. That was enough. Beth slammed her hands on the table. "Look. Firstly, I haven't seen them for weeks since you put me under house arrest. And Carla just happens to be passing all of her classes. In fact, she was even helping me study, until you decided to take that away from me. So I'm taking no responsibility for this," Beth yelled vehemently. "And one last thing. FUCK you," she hissed before striding from the room. Her family was so shocked that no one even attempted to follow her, even when she loudly slammed her door. She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and dialled Carla's number, trying in vain to hold back the tears that perched on the edge of her voice. It rang a few times, clicked, and then Carla's familiar voice answered. Beth nearly lost it at the sound of her best friend's cheerful voice; honestly, she had become a little over dependant on Carla and having her ripped away these past weeks had been hell. Not to mention she hadn't even spoken to Daryl in weeks, let alone set eyes on him. They talked for at least an hour on the phone, and though it made Beth feel a little better it also stirred up her loneliness. When they had exhausted each other's speaking capacity, Carla made her promise to call back tomorrow. Beth agreed and hung up the phone. As she fell asleep, she kept the phone tucked under her chin, missing the feeling of sleeping near Carla's steady breathing. She closed her eyes and pretending she was there, in that messy wood-scented bedroom. Carla would be a little to her left, the door behind her. The door led into the hallway, and if she walked through it, chances are Daryl would be sitting at the kitchen bench. It struck Beth that she was forgetting the exact colour of Carla's bench; was it oak, or stained pine? Either way, she imagined sitting around it with the Dixon siblings, joking about something or other. It was the only way she could sleep.

The next day, Beth wandered down from her room at midday. The house was quiet, which was unusual, but someone was sat at the kitchen table. Hershel. And next to him, a tall glass of scotch that was already half finished. That couldn't be good. Day drinking was a whole new level of fucked in the Greene household.

"Morning, daddy," Beth greeted him apprehensively. He stirred slowly, raising his head from the report card he had been staring at.

"I tried to give you everything, Beth," he said quietly, waving the paper towards her. "I don't know what else I could've done."

Beth sighed. "Look, dad, let's talk when you're…awake."

"You take all this for granted," Hershel added, gesturing around vaguely. "All of it." Beth ignored him, wondering where her mother was. Probably out, or Hershel wouldn't have been allowed within ten feet of a glass that tall. Hershel sat there, glaring, waiting for a response. "I'm talking to you," he said loudly. Beth refused to acknowledge him. Hershel threw what he was holding at the wall behind Beth's head. Now, usually when he did this, it just fell to the floor and Beth was used to ducking out of the way. But on this day, he happened to be holding a pint glass. It shattered, of course, pieces of glass falling like raindrops through the air. Beth yelped in pain as the shards found her face and sunk in.

"What the fuck, dad," she yelled, not caring that she cursed in front of him again. She raised a hand to her cheek and felt blood leaking down from a cut below her eye. Any higher, and she would've been blinded. Hershel gasped and lurched to his feet, teetering unstably.

"Bethy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Save it," Beth growled as she brushed past him and rushed to the hall bathroom. She locked the door behind her and peered into the mirror. It was only a small shard of glass, but it hurt like hell as she pulled it out. It wasn't the pain that made her cry, though. It was the fact that she could see it happening, her father's three years of sobriety basically thrown out the window. And she couldn't help but feel like it was her fault because of that damn report. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. Her hands shook as she dialled Carla's number again, not really sure what else to do. It rang, the line crackled, and Beth didn't bother hiding the tremor in her voice as she whimpered, "Carla?"

The rough voice that answered definitely wasn't Carla. "Hey Beth, she's busy settin' up the party. What's up?"

"Oh, Daryl, uh, nevermind," Beth tried to say light-heartedly, but hearing his voice just made her sniff even more.

"What's wrong?" Daryl's voice was filled with genuine concern. Beth tried to compose herself to answer but her damn trembling lips wouldn't cooperate at all. "Beth? Ya okay?" Daryl asked in a soft tone. It was so uncharacteristically gentle that Beth couldn't help herself.

"I had a fight with my dad," she admitted, her snuffles wrangled into submission through biting her lip. It hurt, but at least her voice grew steadier. "Uh, but its fine, neverm-"

"I'm comin' to getcha," Daryl's distorted voice crackled down the line. Beth's face lit up with a smile that Daryl couldn't see. "Beth? Is that alright?"

"Yes. Yes, please," Beth replied hastily. She didn't mean to sound so desperate, but she was. She didn't care about consequences at this point in time, she was leaving. It seemed like an age, waiting in that bathroom, until she heard the rumble of an approaching engine. The fact that Daryl had come so soon warmed her heart. Pausing to slap a bandaid on her cheek, she let out a sigh of relief and unlocked the door. Packing things would be a waste of time, Carla would lend her anything she needed, and she just wanted to be on that bike. She had almost made it off the porch when the screen door swung open behind her and Hershel, propping himself up on the doorframe, called after her.

"Beth! Don't get on that bike, honey, I'm sorry," his slurred voice filled with emotion. "Dixon, don't you dare take her," he yelled towards Daryl, who was just getting off the bike. Beth ignored her father and jogged a little faster towards the promise of escape. Daryl met her with open arms, pulling her into his side.

"Beth?" he said questioningly as she swiped his hand away from her face. "Wait, shh, lemme see," Daryl pacified her, trying to hold her face still long enough to appraise the damage. He exhaled slowly, dangerously, at blood seeping from behind the bandaid on Beth's face, and turned to Hershel equally as slowly and dangerously. Beth could feel his body tense in reaction and she stepped between them.

"He didn't mean to," she said quietly. "Daryl. It's fine," she whispered, hoping her words were drifting through the veil of anger that fell over his face. Hershel couldn't even make it off the porch, and his sentences became more scrambled with each repetition of his apology.

"Mr Greene, I don't mean to interfere, but if Beth wants to leave, she's sure as hell gonna leave," Daryl called. Beth was already jamming the helmet over her head, ignoring the way it scraped over her cut, and gesturing for Daryl to hurry up. Within minutes, they were crossing the border of Beth's driveway and set off down the cracked road towards the forest. Beth clung to Daryl, appreciating the fluid movement of his sinuous muscles under his jacket. She could hardly believe he was here, he was real. After so many weeks of imagining it, Beth had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Still, she felt guilty for enjoying this. The situation didn't really warrant enjoyment. She tried not to think of her father's helpless voice calling her name as he staggered across the porch. She shouldn't have left him like that. It was her fault, really. If she'd got a better report, or spent more time at home, then maybe, just maybe, things would have been okay. Stupid. Selfish. Beth tried to slow her breathing, but the built-up worries of the past three weeks reached her chest and she was glad the roar of the engine covered up whatever loud sobbing noises her mouth was probably making. What she didn't account for was the direct contact between Daryl's back and her heaving chest. The bike slowed gradually until they drew off to the side of the road.

"Why're we stopping?" Beth sniffed self-consciously. Daryl shrugged.

"Ya gonna fall off if ya keep cryin' like that," he muttered.

"Oh. Sorry," Beth replied shamefully.

"S'okay," Daryl shrugged again. He slid off the bike and stretched, letting Beth compose herself. He pulled off his own helmet and gently undid Beth's. She hid her face behind her bangs as he took it off, slightly embarrassed that Daryl was seeing her so unhinged. He chewed his lip thoughtfully and just stood there, looking at her. It wasn't a judgemental look, though, it was a considerate one. His presence, not crowding her but still near, was a message in itself and Beth half-smiled at his awkward display of concern. Finally, he voiced the question that hung between them "Uh, what happened?"

Beth sniffed and wiped her face, pausing to sweep her hair back into a ponytail. "We had a slight disagreement about my educational status," she admitted. "I failed the semester," Beth explained further, seeing Daryl's blank look.

"Ah." Daryl perched next to her on the seat of the bike. "Well, that ain't a big deal, right?" Beth let out a bark of laughter at his reaction.

"Yeah, not really, but in my family there are…expectations," Beth smirked humourlessly. "Like Maggie, she got some fancy degree, now she runs the pharmacy in town. So, big shoes to fill."

"But yer not Maggie," Daryl muttered awkwardly. "You're you," he glanced briefly at her, dropping his gaze when their eyes met. Beth smiled and cocked her head to the side.

"Yeah, I'm me," she repeated confidently. And sitting there on the side of the road, sharing a comfortably awkward moment with her favourite biker, she felt for just a moment that being Beth was pretty good.

"C'mon, we got a party to get to," Daryl broke the silence and handed her the helmet. He briefly brushed her chin with his thumb, giving her a small smile, a little gesture of affection that made Beth's smile widen significantly. She hid her blush by pulling the helmet down over her face. It felt like the easiest thing in the world to sit behind Daryl on that bike, and run away from her problems at ridiculous speeds. Being Beth wasn't perfect, but it was pretty good.


	7. Party

The minute Beth sat behind Carla's kitchen counter, balance was restored to the universe. At least, that's what it felt like and she took a sigh of relief. Carla, of course, had a million questions and things to say, and Daryl milled around in the background like a nervous hen. Beth brushed them both off and demanded a more light-hearted topic of conversation than her family conflict. Something like tonight's party. It sounded like Carla had invited half the school and apparently some Wolves were going to come as well. Beth raised an eyebrow when she heard that. Rejoicing high-schoolers and known drug dealers did not sound like a good mix. But Carla was Carla, and she would do what she liked. Anyhow, the kids would probably pass out after two cruisers, never mind the hard stuff. Beth was a little nervous; she didn't know anyone apart from Carla and the atmosphere of parties always made her on edge. Suddenly, the harsh tone of her cell cut through the fast-paced conversation. Maggie's number popped up on the screen and Beth sighed.

"I gotta take this," she mouthed to Carla. The two Dixons nodded and hovered discreetly nearby, doing a poor job of disguising their snooping. Beth clicked answer.

"Beth? Where are you?" Maggie's concerned voice immediately said. "Daddy told me what happened, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mags," Beth replied in the most calming tone she could muster. "Honestly, I'm over it," she added convincingly.

"Please come home, Beth. We can work this out," Maggie pleaded in a heartbreakingly worried voice. "You can't just leave."

Beth smiled and let out a short breath of amusement. "Mags, I'm not running away. I'm just at Carla's for her party."

"What?" Maggie said after a pause. "Oh, the way daddy put it sounded far more dramatic."

"I just needed to get out of there. But I promise I'm coming home," Beth said soothingly. "Is…is daddy okay?"

Maggie sighed. "Yes, he's sleeping it off. But he's inconsolable, Bethy. He's real sorry," she said sadly.

"Tell him I'm sorry too," Beth said quietly. "Sorry for the report, an' everything."

Another pause as Maggie shuffled the phone around. "The report? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, that's why daddy was drinking. It was my fault," Beth admitted in a hushed voice, trying not to be overheard by the eavesdropping Dixons.

Maggie groaned. "Beth, of course it isn't your fault. I'm sorry we were so hard about that report, but we were just worried."

"Maybe," Beth said indifferently.

"Listen, I'll talk to daddy when he wakes up. You enjoy that party, alright?" Maggie sighed. "Oh and Beth; be sensible. No drinking, no boys," Maggie warned.

"Yes ma'am, whatever you say," Beth smirked as she hung up.

"You good?" Carla asked worriedly. Beth flashed her a grin and a peace sign, indicating that she had sorted it out. They were interrupted by the crunching of gravel as a truck pulled up outside. "Oh, that's Merle back. Let's help him unload," Carla rushed out the door excitedly. Beth realised why she was so excited as she followed her to the flatbed of the truck; it was full of kegs and bottles. Maggie's warning rung through Beth's ears, but she dismissed it. Maybe it was just immature spite for her family, but Beth decided then and there that she was going to drink tonight.

A few hours later, after much running around to set everything up, the property had been transformed into a pretty neat hangout. Plenty of rusted, fold-out chairs were strewn around the place, and sheds had been opened with various activities inside, mostly centred around alcohol consumption. For once, Beth wasn't stressed about breaking the law; she reluctantly admitted to herself that she was curious about drinking. If it could change a person so radically, she wondered what it felt like to be changed in that way. Such a change was made apparent when Will Dixon showed up, much to Beth's horror. But as he stepped off his motorbike, she noticed a more controlled air about him. He wasn't drunk, then. This way the first time she'd seen him sober. Still, no matter how controlled he was, she still hated the way he leered at her as he walked past. Carla made up some excuse to retreat to the shed, leaving the brothers to deal with Will back at the house.

"I told him we were busy tonight, but he never listens," Carla sighed in annoyance as they stacked cups on a table for beer pong. "Shithead can't keep his nose out of my business," she growled.

"Is he gonna be a buzzkill?" Beth asked, her previous enthusiasm for the night slightly dispelled at the thought of Will Dixon hanging around. Carla shrugged. Footsteps approached the shed, quiet ones, and Beth looked gleefully towards the door, expecting Daryl. But the approaching Dixon was Will, and he was dressed resplendently in his Wolves jacket, which still had remnants of blood on the seams.

Will glanced past Beth without acknowledging her and glared at Carla. "Listen up, girl. You better clean this place up before I get back on Monday, or there'll be hell to pay," he said casually, yet somehow that made it all the more threatening. Carla nodded, for once not making a sassy rejoinder. Beth hated the glint in Will's eye, and she realised that he was even worse sober; his implied cruelty was cold and calculated rather than an uncoordinated expression of underlying anger. Neither girl spoke as he walked slowly away, a smirk smeared across his face, until the sound of his engine revving up signalled that he had left the premises. They let out a collective sigh of relief. Beth couldn't imagine what it must be like, living with a constant thundercloud like that just waiting to erupt. Equally unthinkable was the length of time Will spent away from home; sure, the Dixon brothers were adults more than capable of looking after themselves, but Beth felt sorry that Carla was left without any sort of guidance from a parental figure. It made her feel slightly bad for criticising her own family's involvement in her life.

After people started to arrive, Beth quickly came to the conclusion that she did not like parties. It was noisy, and busy, and everyone seemed to know everyone else. Carla tried to include her but she also had to pay attention to her many, many, other guests, and Daryl and Merle were off drinking with a small group of the younger Wolves who had showed up with even more booze. Beth sat inside at the counter, contemplating just going to bed, when the welcome sight of Carla's head popped in the door.

"Hey, come help me thrash my stupid brothers at beer pong," Carla grinned excitedly. Beth chuckled.

"I've never played before," she admitted, joining Carla as she weaved through the throng of revellers.

"It's easy," Carla scoffed. "And you don't have to drink, if you don't want to," she added kindly. Beth smiled, glad her friend was so understanding, but she shook her head.

"Nah, I'll drink," Beth replied with a devilish grin. Carla whooped loudly with amazement and gave Beth an enthusiastic high-five.

"Hey fuckers! Beth said she's drinking," she announced proudly as the approached the table. Merle clapped his hands loudly and chuckled, but Daryl looked a little uncertain. He stepped closer to Beth, and while the crowd around the table was occupied with some grandiose speech Carla was making, he pulled Beth aside.

"You sure?" he asked gruffly. His hypnotizing eyes were intense, but for once Beth had the confidence to return his gaze as she nodded. "I mean, ya don't have to. Really," Daryl insisted.

"Look, I've had a shit day, so I'm gonna treat myself, m'kay?" Beth grinned. He shrugged his shoulders and reluctantly returned her smile.

"Okay, bitches, round one," Carla yelled excitedly, pulling Beth next to her. It was pretty easy to get the hang of, and after a few tries, Beth was actually pretty good at it. Of course, Merle and Daryl downed the half-cups of cider with total ease, and so did Carla, which was unsurprising given how much she usually drank. When it inevitably came to Beth's turn to drink, she picked up the cup decisively. It was only half full, and it didn't even smell that strong, but she still screwed up her face at the unfamiliar taste as she swallowed it down. Resounding cheers from the crowd egged them on, but despite their suburb technique, Beth and Carla still lost. They both started booing and accusing the brothers of cheating, and the two boys responded by throwing accusations right back at them. It was all in good nature, and Beth found herself giggling happily at the fun of it all. Or maybe that was just the cider getting to her head; she realized suddenly that things were a little blurry at the edges, and her hands felt heavy. It didn't matter; she was having fun and feeling pretty damn good. They played a few more rounds, things got blurrier, and more fun was had. After a while, the crowd split off into little groups and Beth lost track of Carla. She was pretty sure her slightly inebriated friend was off with some guy from the football team, and Beth wasn't going to interrupt whatever Carla had going on. Hey, as long as everyone was having fun, so was Beth. She smiled and laughed as she wandered around the different groups, pausing now and them to make conversation with people she recognized from school. It was amazing how easy it was to talk. Apparently the many varieties alcohol she had downed had removed whatever social boundaries existed and she chatted to anyone about anything. But as she drifted, she realised she had no idea where any of the Dixons were, and she felt a little lost in the big crowd. Beth walked determinedly to the outskirts of the main group, but there were still people everywhere. And noise. Noise rang through her ears and made thinking impossible. If only she could find somewhere quiet to think, maybe she could sort out the jumbled string of thoughts in her mind. The thoughts were basic, and mixed up, but somehow she managed to stumble away from the music, the noise, the incessant conversation. Standing in the quiet, cold night air, she felt like she could catch her breath and she began wandering behind the derelict old sheds. Just off to the side, she saw the welcoming glow of a campfire and she stumbled thankfully towards it. This decision seemed like a great one until, as she got closer, her blurred eyes made out the group sitting around the fire. It was the Wolves, their jackets like beacons of danger, and Beth couldn't be sure exactly how many of them there were, since her vision was swimming. She was about to turn around when she spotted Merle in amongst the fray. Fixing her gaze on that familiar face, she devoted the rest of her mind power on moving her feet one step at a time. It felt like walking through treacle, and her clouded thoughts were just as slow. Damn, it would be nice to just sit down and let the effects of the alcohol just dissipate.

"Hey there," a voice slurred in her ear as an unfamiliar Wolf noticed her presence. He was pretty scruffy and looked like a stereotypical hippie, with his long hair and a smoke balanced delicately on his lips. "You want some?" He waved a cup of something that smelled awfully strong towards her.

"No," Beth mumbled, unable to conjure up a more polite decline, but making up for it with a smile. She ignored him and made a beeline for a log seat right next to Merle.

"You seen Carla or, uh, Daryl?" Beth said with great effort, her mouth finding it difficult to form words. Merle shook his head.

"Dunno where they are, sugar," he shrugged with a casual grin. He seemed pretty out of it, and Beth realized that the group gathered around the campfire weren't just smoking cigarettes. She stood awkwardly.

"I'll go find them, then," she muttered, trying to leave discreetly. The scruffy Wolf grabbed her wrist.

"C"mon, this is where the real party's at," he laughed happily. "Stay, have fun." Beth shook his hand off and pushed him away. "Aw, don't be a bitch," he whined sadly at the rejection.

"Leave me alone," Beth glared at him, aware that most of the group was now watching them. The scruffy one raised his hands and stepped back in surrender, a hurt look on his face. Beth didn't have the energy to worry about a random stoner's feelings though, and she left the merry group to themselves. Wandering the crowds again, she tried to fight the rising feeling of unease that she couldn't find either Carla or Daryl. She just needed a familiar face to reassure her that she was still having fun. After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, she still had found nothing. In the middle of the crowd, she thought she saw Carla's distinctive russet hair, but it was impossible to push through the massive amounts of people and she lost her again. Now buried deep in the crowd, Beth cursed her small height. It was impossible to see over everyone's heads and a claustrophobic dread fell over her as she twisted around, barely able to shove through the inebriated horde. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her elbow and she whipped around with a gasp, only to come face to face with a familiar intense stare.

"Daryl!" she yelled happily, and because her intoxication made her wonderfully unaware of social boundaries, she threw her arms around his neck in a thankful bear-hug. "I was lookin' for you," she mumbled incoherently into his neck. He smelt like booze and smoke, but it was still comforting to squeeze her face against his chest. He gently pried her arms from their tight hold around his neck and steadied her teetering steps with a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, here I am," he laughed amusedly at her blatant delight at seeing him. She swayed for a moment, before regaining her balance. She fixed him with serious glare.

"Your brother is smoking weed," Beth whispered scandalously. Daryl sighed.

"Yeah, he does that," he shrugged. Beth looked taken aback by his casual response and made an exaggerated shocked face. "How much have ya drunk?" Daryl asked with concern. Beth's eyes narrowed as she tried to recall, the pumping generic pop music distracting her focus. She pushed her brain to think harder but all she could focus on was the horrendous dancing that was taking place by the stereo. It made her grin like an idiot and she forgot about Daryl's lingering question until he snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Ay. C'mon," he hissed. "How much?"

"Who knows," Beth smiled back cheerfully. "Me an' Carla were doing shots after beer pong and I think we drank more beer. It's yuck, tastes like shit," she rambled on. Daryl groaned.

"Jesus christ. Your dad's gonna kill me," he sighed.

"Don't worry about him, he's an asshole," Beth shook her head confidently, almost falling over in the process.

"Don't say that," Daryl chided her.

"You can't talk, I bet you've drunk more than me an' Carla combined," Beth slurred with an accusatory finger jabbed at his chest.

"Yeah, but the difference is I can handle my liquor," Daryl snorted. Sure enough, although he wasn't totally sober, he wasn't nearly as incapacitated as Beth. He could still stand and talk, even if his eyes were a little unfocused now and then. "C'mon, let's get ya a lil' less shitfaced," he sighed, leading her easily through the crowd. Beth tugged her hand from his firm grip when she spotted Carla in the distance, but without his support she stumbled to the ground. She protested as Daryl easily plucked her off the ground and set her on her feet, this time with an arm around her waist, but it was nice to have something warm and steady to lean against so she conceded and followed him to the house. There was no one inside, and with the noise of the party dulled, Beth could almost think again. Daryl set her down to lean against the counter and poured her a glass of water.

"You're so sweet, Daryl," Beth mumbled thankfully as she sculled the cold liquid. He shrugged and turned away to hide his flushed cheeks. "No, really, you are," Beth insisted. She pushed the now empty glass aside, a movement that unbalanced her. She could have leant on the bench, but instead chose to stumble closer into Daryl's chest. She could hear his heartbeat just under her ear, which increased rapidly as she wound her arms around his waist.

"Beth, quit playin' around," Daryl growled, half-heartedly tugging at her persistent clasp. He sighed at her stubborn reluctance to let go. "Bit of a clingy drunk, are ya?" he muttered in resignation. Beth's face rubbed into his chest as she nodded, her vice-like grip unfaltering. He sighed again, gently grabbed her waist and hoisted her onto the bench. Now their faces were at the same level, Beth could meet his gaze without much effort and she tilted her head quizzically at his pensive expression. "Ya shouldn't get so close to me," He mumbled cryptically with an apologetic glint behind his eyes.

"Ya shouldn't tell me what to do," Beth countered, raising a challenging eyebrow. For once, she refused to drop his gaze and he blushed awkwardly under her scrutiny. Daryl was the first to look away. "Besides, I like being close to you," Beth whispered furtively. Her head had cleared enough that her hands were finally back under her mind's control, and she gently moved one from Daryl's waist all the way up to his face. He leaned into her soft touch for a moment, momentarily distracted, but all too soon he shook her hand away.

"Yer drunk Beth, quit bein' silly," he murmured gruffly. Still, his actions betrayed his words as he lent each hand against the bench on either side of Beth's legs and took a miniscule step forwards. It wasn't really a step, more like a shift of weight, but now their faces were even closer. Beth's voice caught in her throat as she mimicked his leaning forwards. Her hands drifted to Daryl's neck, a light suggestion that he move even closer. "Beth," he whispered hoarsely. It wasn't a question, or a demand, it was more a confirmation that she was actually encouraging his nearness.

"Shut up," Beth whispered almost imperceptibly, their lips so close that she could feel his breath ghost across her cheek. She closed the gap and kissed him softly, innocently. His lips tasted of bitter alcohol, but they were enticingly warm as he returned the embrace. It wasn't the rushed, fervent kiss Beth had been expecting, it was quiet and gentle. Daryl's hands drifted to the small of her back and pulled her closer, breaking the kiss to press his lips softly to her forehead. Beth cupped his cheeks and tried to read his facial expression, but his gaze dropped to the floor when she tried to find it. She brushed a strand of his hair away from those aquatic eyes and leaned in to lay a trail of light kisses across his jawline, all the way to his chin. His stubble was scratchy in a pleasant sort of way. Daryl allowed her to kiss him again, but he was reserved and pulled away after briefly kissing her back.

"We shouldn't," Daryl mumbled in a hushed tone, his head bowed against hers in an apologetic moment of intimacy. His fingers traced light circle across her back and Beth refused to let him pull away.

"Why not," she whispered roughly into his ear, her breath sending a shiver down Daryl's back. Beth trailed her hands around his shoulders until they reached his broad back and she copied his repetitive circling finger movements across the back of his ripped plaid shirt.

"Yer drunk," Daryl muttered, making no move to stop her wandering hands. "An' I'm too old for ya."

"Nope, not a good enough excuse," Beth dismissed him with a smirk. She softly pressed her lips to the shell of his ear and Daryl could barely contain his gasp of surprise.

"I'm no good for ya, then," he muttered slowly into her skin, his mouth tracing the line of shadow falling across her neck, deliciously soft yet abrasive at the same time. She bit her lip to stop herself making any humiliating noises and wound her fingers through his dark hair.

"Daryl, you're more than good for me," she whispered sincerely, running her hand affectionately over his head. He looked up at her honest face, her smile radiating approval and fondness. Daryl raised the corner of his mouth in a half-smile as he regretfully pulled away from the embrace. He stood there, just looking at her, while Beth self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ears.

Finally, after a loaded pause, Daryl sighed. "Ya don't know me, Bethy. not really," he smiled sadly. "If ya did, ya sure wouldn't be so smitten with me."

Beth fixed him with a blunt glare. "I know you're loyal. I know you're sweet. I don't care what else you got hidden," she insisted. Daryl sighed.

"That's your trouble, girl. Yer too trustin'," he muttered under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Beth raised an eyebrow.

"Nothin', jus' that ya should raise yer standards a bit," Daryl shrugged. "C'mon, let's check Carla's not passed out in the creek," he smiled, helping Beth off the bench. They wandered outside, where the party was still going strong. Carla was up on the roof of a car singing karaoke at the top of her voice. Beth realised they had only been inside for ten minutes or so, even if it felt like a lifetime. She glanced up at Daryl as she followed him through the crowd. He seemed quiet, but the grin splashed across his face told her that he was more than okay with what happened. They stood near the car, ready to catch Carla if she teetered off the edge, but still cheering her on as she blasted out another classic rock song. The lingering effects of the alcohol let Beth enjoy the noise of the thronging crowd; enjoy the elated mood that was almost tangible in the atmosphere. She laughed and joined in the mob clapping Carla on. From the corner of her eye, she noted Daryl hovering next to her side. He flashed her a wide grin and one of those uninterpretable winks. Well, she could interpret it now. Those winks definitely meant that Daryl, to some extent, returned her confusing feelings of affection.


	8. Aftermath

As the night drew on and the large crowd dissipated somewhat, things quieted down and Beth found herself sitting next to the Wolves' campfire with Daryl and Carla on either side of her. The other Wolves were quiet and sat contently around the fire, passing a joint around. Beth wasn't surprised that Daryl had a few pulls on the smoke, but unexpectedly, Carla did an equal amount of damage to it. It seemed that her previous reservations about her brothers' lifestyles had been removed, and Carla was adapting pretty fast to their ways. Beth didn't know if that was a good or bad outcome.

"Ay, tell your sister to lay off, that shit's expensive," the scruffy Wolf called from his slumped positing by the fire pit.

"Shut it, Paul. Don't ya forget, she's a Dixon too, an' Dixons get what they want," Merle replied loudly. Beth didn't know how he was still conscious, assuming he had been sitting here getting high since the evening begun. She also wondered what he meant about the Dixons; did they hold some powerful position in the felonious gang? Her addled mind didn't want to think about it, so she just leant back against her log. Except her log had been moved, and instead she was leaning back onto Daryl's side. He threw a casual arm across her shoulder.

"They'll see," Beth hissed quietly, jerking her eyes towards the gathered crowd.

"They ain't gonna remember a single thing since sundown," Daryl chuckled. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "C'mon, s'okay."

Beth looked around the campfire. Sure enough, most were passed out or staring blankly into the convulsing flames of the fire. Even Carla had nodded off next to them, her head resting on a folded Wolves' jacket. Merle's, judging from the name patch. Satisfied they wouldn't be caught, Beth happily snuggled into Daryl's side. His arm was firm and comforting around her shoulder, banishing the sharp chill of the night air. They didn't say much but they didn't need to. It was enough to sit there, all curled up together, staring at the crackling fire or the pinpoints of diamond-like stars in the sky. Beth felt herself drifting off, even though she was surrounded by strangers. Daryl's side was the safest place she could think of and she affectionately nuzzled into his shoulder as her eyes closed.

A few hours later, nearing dawn, Beth stirred drowsily from her sleep at the weird sensation of floating through air. Looking up, she saw Daryl's face and felt a pair of arms under her knees and back. She rationalised that he must be carrying her, for what reason she didn't know, but she was quite happy to go along with whatever he wanted. Through blurry eyes, she could make out the familiar interior of Carla's room, and then gentle hands were settling her onto the spare mattress. Carla was already asleep in her bed, and it was safe to assume that it was Good Samaritan Daryl who had brought her inside. Beth grabbed his hand as he pulled away.

"Hey," was all she managed to say, her mind still fogged up by sleep and alcohol.

"Shh, go back to sleep," Daryl whispered softly. He smiled fondly as Beth nodded happily, and leant down to press a kiss to her forehead. "G'night," he whispered, to which she could only reply with a soft murmur. She watched him pause to pull the covers over Carla. He carefully swept the hair off his sister's face and kissed her cheek before switching off the light and quietly closing the door. Beth was struck again by his tender mannerisms, so out of place in this environment. Unless you spent most of your time with him, it was easy to assume that all there was to Daryl was his gruff, brisk exterior. But Beth saw the truth. Beth saw his deep, limitless loyalty and affection for the special few that he allowed close.

In the morning, Beth stumbled out of bed at an uncharacteristically early hour, woken by the rumble of motorbikes as the last of the guests left. It was a few hours past dawn, but Beth let Carla stay asleep. Carla had had a big night; it would probably take at least half the day to sleep it off. The house was quiet, but the serene silence did nothing to help Beth's wicked headache. Sunlight dappled the floors that her eyes stayed fixed on as she inched down the hallway. In the living area, Merle lay snoring on the couch and Daryl was hunched over the kitchen counter, his head resting on crossed arms. Beth was glad that she wasn't the only one that felt like last night's antics metaphorically ran her over with a semi-truck.

"Mornin'," Beth said quietly as she shuffled past Daryl and cracked open the fridge. He grunted in reply, sounding half asleep. The waves of his rusted hair fell across half his face, his eyes remained firmly shut, his breathing even. The only sign that he wasn't completely comatose was the hint of a smile that crawled across his face when Beth walked in. "Crazy party, yeah?" Beth giggled at his inoperable state.

"Uh-huh," Daryl muttered from behind his forearms. "Ya feel okay?"

"Pretty shit. Not as bad as you, by the looks of it," Beth snorted. She turned on the kettle and found a stash of coffee in the pantry. That was what you used for a hangover, right? Well, at any rate, she'd seen it in movies and Hershel always drank it after a night out. The rich scent of ground coffee filled the air and seemed to revive Daryl a little. He sat up and stretched with a groan, incredibly stiff from apparently sleeping on the bench. Beth tried to smile at him but she found that her eyes refused to meet his. No matter what she tried, she just couldn't bring herself to look at him, not until he said something about last night. In truth, Beth felt a little awkward about the situation and she didn't know what to do. Ordinarily, she'd ask Carla for her advice, but the added pressure of keeping this a secret was just another burden. Still, as she cast her mind back through the fog of last night's events, she couldn't help but smile at the memory of the kiss, of Daryl's closeness. She was snapped out of her reminiscing by Daryl's hands on her shoulders, his inherently stealthy movements surprising her.

"Makin' coffee, what a gem," Daryl murmured into her hair as he stood behind her and almost leaned on her shoulders. His low voice tickled her ear and she found herself blushing again.

"Gotta love coffee," Beth replied somewhat awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. She had assumed that Daryl would act standoffish and embarrassed today, and she never thought he'd reinitiate this sort of contact. If anything, she presumed last night had been a drunken mistake on Daryl's part, even if she'd meant every second of it. But apparently not, as even in the harsh light of a hungover morning, Daryl's affection seemed unmoved.

"Did ya have fun last night?" Daryl rumbled on, resting his chin near the crook of her neck. His stubble brought back memories of his mouth scratching across her neck and she shivered involuntarily.

"Yeah, I did," she managed to reply in a fairly normal voice. It was hard to keep the tremor out of her voice, since her heart was beating a mile a minute. It was even harder to resist spinning around and demanding he resume what he'd stopped last night. Perhaps Daryl took her apparent nervousness another way, because he stepped away and leant against the bench.

"Uh, Beth, if ya don't like this," Daryl stuttered. "I mean, if ya only did 'cause ya were drunk, then-"

"No," Beth cut him off quickly before he could backtrack. "I like it. I like you," she stammered nervously. Now that she was sober, the confident flirtatiousness had disappeared from her voice, which was a shame because there was so much she wanted to say to him in that voice. So much she wanted to initiate, but her damn shyness was creeping back in.

"Yer sure?" Daryl asked worriedly. His concern was understandable, and Beth found it quite sweet that he was so disbelieving of her affection. Sweet, but annoying. She wasn't sure how to assure him of her utter delight that he returned the feeling.

"Of course," Beth replied firmly. She wished she was brave enough to look him in the eye and tell him just how much she wanted this, or grab his hands and pull him closer, but the mere thought of it made her queasy. She wasn't sure why, because it wasn't like Daryl was going to reject her, but for some reason she couldn't quite make herself take that step closer and initiate anything. Something in her body language must have betrayed her inner thought process, though, because Daryl edged closer. He hesitantly drew her in, arms lighter than feathers as they ghosted around her back, almost like he was afraid of crushing her.

"I like this too," he whispered with a devilish smirk that belied his nervous behaviour. As Beth kissed him, she came to the conclusion that most of Daryl's cocky, confidant bravado was utter bullshit, because here in her arms she held a very uneasy, very gentle creature. It was like the minute she got close, his façade dropped and underneath there was so much more emotion to sort through. Beth could psychoanalyse a million different things from the way his lips softly brushed over hers, but the important thing was that both of them were equally frightened yet intrigued by this new sense of closeness. It was only with extreme reluctance that Beth pulled away when the kettle boiled. Maybe it was seeing Daryl's less confidant side that let her finally raise her eyes to his, and she knew Daryl could read all he needed to from the flash of a smile she gave him.

After the coffee was poured, Carla and Merle appeared like magic, probably drawn by the strong smell of glorious caffeine. They didn't seem to notice anything, but to Beth, the change in dynamic between her and Daryl was glaringly obvious. His mischievous smirks held a little more depth, and the looks between them were heavier, now carrying the weight of whatever had started to grow between them. No one noticed it but them, and that made this new connection seem all the more intimate now that it had begun to evolve into something neither of them could control.

 **Author Note:** coming up soon: Beth's gotta deal with her family (obvi) but also, expect some fun Beth/Dixon camping action since the girls are on holiday!  
Speaking of holidays, still 2 weeks until mine so probably gonna be weekly updates till then :/ but once i'm on break, it'll be updates galore! (i hope)


	9. I'm Back

Home didn't feel like home at the moment. Beth sat crouched on her bed, headphones blaring some rock song she'd heard at the party. It had felt awkward, disjointed, walking back through the door. Daryl and Carla had hovered nervously by the truck, instructed by Beth to keep their distance, lest her family lay all the blame on them. Hershel had been apologetic, tears brimming behind his tired eyes, and Beth found it more than easy to wrap him in a hug and reassure him. As she hugged her father, she tried not to think about the Dixons watching on. She'd bet all she had that their father never regretted his actions like this. It felt like she was rubbing it in their faces, almost like she was reminding them that perhaps their father wasn't just alcoholic; perhaps he just disliked his own children. Beth quickly let go and waved them off, guilty that she was lording her less-dysfunctional over them. The truck roared off up the driveway and Beth felt a tug in her belly, like her body needed to be in that truck with them.

She fell backwards onto her pillows, a deep sigh echoing from her lips. She was in trouble, of course, but mostly her family was just happy to see her home. She flicked up the volume on her phone and set the song on loop. i I wanna be yours. i The soft fabric of her shirt still smelled of whiskey and campfire smoke, still smelled like him. It was absurd to assume he'd be thinking about her to; she didn't know if this was a big deal to him. It was a big deal to her, if only because she'd never felt anything like the pull towards him. The song began again and her mind drifted back to those hands pulling her closer. Gentle, so gentle, yet demanding that their skin touched, radiating warmth together. Beth groaned out loud. She pulled off her shirt and bunched it up next to her pillow. It was comforting. It made it easier to imagine him next to her, his usually tense arms draped casually over her shoulder. This was going too far; this was an obsession.

The next day, her mind was still filled with Daryl. It had been awkward that morning, her family gathered around the breakfast table, pretending like nothing had happened. Maggie asking if it had been a fun party. Beth told her the basics, but avoided mentioning the drinking. After all, it was a little hypocritical to dramatically cause a fuss about her father's drinking and then go off and get smashed herself. So she didn't talk about that. She also didn't talk about Daryl; her family would go spare if they knew how...close...she'd gotten to a guy far, far older than her. A guy in a motorcycle gang who smoked weed and probably sold it too. It was easy, dodging questions; her family never expected anything crazy from her. She was a good girl. A well behaved young lady. Little did they know how easily she threw that persona out the window when Daryl was around. He didn't care if she was wild, irresponsible, he just cared that she was smiling. Did he care? Beth asked herself over and over as the morning wore on. Everyone had gone out to work, or shopping in her mother's case, and Beth was left to wander around the farm. She was going to take Nelly, her favourite mare, out for a ride but the chestnut was stabled with a stone bruise so that was out. Eventually, boredom got the better of her and she pulled out her phone. It couldn't hurt to see what the Dixons were up to today. There was a message in her inbox, from an unknown number.

Hey, darlin'.

Her heart beat faster.

So maybe he was thinking about her. It was amusing to imagine Daryl, who barely knew what an ipad was, typing away at his phone. She could practically hear his accent through the text.

Daryl? She wrote back, just to double check.

Ya got someone else callin' you darlin'?

Beth laughed. Biting her lip, she took the risk and pressed dial. It rang once, twice, then clicked as he picked up. "Um, hey," she stuttered, suddenly shy.

"Everythin' okay with your folks?" Daryl immediately asked. It was sweet, his concern, at it made Beth feel slightly less ashamed of her obsessive thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah, all good. I'm just bored," Beth admitted. Daryl's breathy chuckle echoed down the line. "How'd you get my number?"

"Carla. Ya mind?" Daryl replied, his gravelly voice softened into a smooth, rich lilt.

"No." A Pause. "I, uh, I was glad to hear from y-you." Beth hated how her voice quivered and stumbled over the words, probably giving away how nervous she was. Not scared, exactly, just unsure of how to act within this new dynamic.

"I figured ya would be," Daryl said with a hint of cockiness in his voice. Okay, so that's how it was. He may be a little shy but underneath it, Beth got a sense of a swaggering, sweet-talking, self-assured guy.

"So what're you an' Carla up to?" Beth steered the conversation away from any topic that made his voice drop into that smug tone that made her knees a little bit weak.

There was a pause. "Uh, well, we're goin' camping." Daryl sighed. "We we're gonna ask ya but figured, ya parents an' all wouldn't like it…." He sounded apologetic, but also a little disappointed.

"I'll come," Beth said quickly. She wasn't exactly thinking straight but the thought of spending a few days away from all this, a few days with the Dixons, it was too good to pass up.

"Ya sure?" Daryl's voice lifted in surprise.

"Yeah, yeah. Pick me up in half an hour," Beth nodded before she could change her mind. This was crazy. She'd never be allowed to do something like this. Her phone clicked as Daryl agreed and hung up, and no less than seven seconds later she got a text from Carla that was just three paragraphs of smiley faces. Fuck, she was really going to do this.

Beth ran around the house, gathering together some basic supplies. She'd been camping her whole childhood so she knew exactly what to throw into her rucksack. She was done faster than she'd of liked. Right, then. Write a note? Or just leave? Guilt surged through her and made her grab a notepad and scribble a few sentences about going camping with Carla; camping, what could be so bad about camping? Done. Finished. Heart racing, Beth sat back and stared at the midday sun pouring through the window. Still ten minutes till Daryl would be here. Waiting on the porch seemed desperate, but she had to psych herself up to run off with Daryl fuckin' Dixon for the second time in two days. The guilt gnawed at her conscious, and made her pull out her phone. She hovered her thumb over the contacts for a minute then clicked on her mother's number.

"Want something at the shops, honey?" Her mother's cheerful voice rang out.

"Uh, hi mom. No, not really. Uh," Beth couldn't bring herself to spit it out.

"What is it?" Her mother asked impatiently, probably waiting in the queue. Beth smiled. She knew her mother didn't mean to be brisk, but she often came off that way, always a million things on her mind at once.

"I'm going camping with Carla for a few days," Beth blurted out. Silence. Then-

-"Honey, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Mom, I already said I'd go," Beth sighed. "I know you don't like the Dixons but…:"

"I don't like the thought of you out there without an adult," her mother tutted, concern laced through every word.

"Her brother's coming to keep an eye on us," Beth ventured. Better not mention which brother.

"He's not exactly responsible, Bethy," her mother sighed.

"You've never met them, momma. They're not like people say," Beth tried to say calmly, but an edge of anger crept into her voice. She was sick of the assumptions people made about the people she considered morally better than half the town.

A pause, a thoughtful hum from the other end of the phone. "Okay, Beth. I'm trusting you to act the way we raised you," her mother said with a warning implied in her stern voice. "Oh and honey, I'll tell you father."

"Thanks momma," Beth smiled. It was a relief, to be in the clear. Maybe it was childish, but she hated being in trouble.

Daryl's truck clattered to a stop, but it wasn't Daryl driving. It was Merle. Beth stood, confused, till she saw the other Dixon siblings crammed next to him in the passenger seats.

"Howdy. Chuck yer bag on in the back," Merle flashed her that unsettling grin of his, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the truck's flatbed. It was already packed with all manner of gear and- guns. A lot of guns. Beth gulped. Okay, so they might be doing a little more than pitching tents and sitting by the fire. She shook off her moment of nervousness and walked around to the other door. Daryl threw it open for her, since he was sitting closest. The front, and only, seat was a bench so it was only minimally difficult to squeeze in.

"Beth! I can't believe you're coming, oh this is gonna be fuckin' great," Carla immediately began squealing.

"I'm back, bitches. Ya can't get rid of me," Beth squealed back. The guys rolled their eyes at what they perceived as "girly" excitement. Carla noticed and stuck up a finger at both of them, letting out another ear-piercing screech of joy. Beth laughed at her friend's excitement. The enthusiasm was contagious and a tingle ran up her spine as she imagined what the next few days held. Or maybe the tingle was because her and Daryl's arms were resting tantalisingly close together. His flannel shirt had the sleeves ripped off, leaving his soft skin exposed to brush against her shoulder, a singlet being the only barrier covering Beth's torso.

"Hey, kid," Daryl smirked quietly, a knowing gleam in his eye. Beth blushed and pulled her arm closer to her body.

"Hey," was all she managed to blush back at him. It was going to be harder than she thought, this camping trip. Even Carla and Merle were bound to notice if she kept blushing so hard under Daryl's scrutiny. He didn't seem all that concerned, though. In fact, judging by the devilish grin he threw her way, he intended to keep those blushes coming.


	10. Quit Bein' Cute

Electric. The atmosphere between them was electric. Subtle glances, shy smiles, little steps shifted closer. If Carla noticed the change, she didn't say anything. Their destination was a long hour drive away, and Beth was happy to stretch her legs once they got out of the rust-bucket of a truck. Her rucksack settled heavy on her shoulders, and the dense woods loomed around them. The car park was on the verge of the forest, and Carla nonchalantly said it was another half hours walk to the campsite. Beth filled her lungs with the crisp, fresh air. Cool, but not cold. That faint earthy smell that only a forest could have. Familiar noises of birds drifted into her ears, and the not-so familiar silence. It was a heavy silence that promised total isolation. That thought sent a thrill down her spine, and she wasn't sure if it was excitement or apprehension, or just the crisp air biting at her skin. She stopped to pull a jacket out of her rucksack. Daryl was doing the same, meaning they lagged behind the other two a little. He wasn't wearing his biker jacket; instead he pulled on a thick suede one with a woollen collar. It wrapped around his lithe form, and hung low over his cotton fingerless gloves. Already Beth was imagining twining her fingers through those gloves, burying her face in that woollen collar. She reigned those thoughts in; Carla and Merle were only a little ways ahead, and Beth wasn't ready for them to know how much her and Daryl's friendship had changed. Daryl lingered at the forest edge as she skipped to catch up. He offered her a smile, little more than an upwards twitch of his mouth.

"Ya like camping?" Daryl asked, casting his mellow eyes around the treeline. Probably out of habit, Beth realised, since his mind automatically catalogued every aspect of the natural setting. What way the wind was blowing, what animals might have passed by, the weather patterns of the next day or two. All little things like that, he just seemed to absorb without thinking too much about it.

"Yeah, I go camping with Maggie and Dad every once in a while," Beth smiled, glad he was taking the initiative to start the conversation.

"Didn't take your sister for much of a camper," he snorted. Beth laughed and agreed.

"She's not the best, that's for sure."

"She works at the chemist in town, yeah?" Daryl asked. Beth nodded, filling him in on Maggie's successful career she had landed because she was secretly a super nerd who enjoyed things like chemistry and reading scientific journals. Not that she'd ever let anyone else know that.

They chatted about not much in particular until they caught up with the other two, and then Carla's boisterous personality took command of the conversation as usual. Their feet crunched twigs underneath as they tramped through the underbrush, and their voices sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the trees. The light that managed to squeeze through the canopy fell over the path in dapples and patches. Beth joked and talked with Carla, but her mind was half distracted by Daryl. Was he intentionally teasing her, walking so close that their hand brushed together? Or was she just reading too much into it? As he strode ahead to catch up with Merle, Beth caught him throwing a sideways glance at her. That expression was full of mirth, the twinkle in his eye suggesting he knew exactly what he was doing. Beth blushed and tried to ignore him. She half wished he would act like his old normal self, that awkward and shy almost-friend, instead of this self-assured new attitude. At the same time, Beth found herself enjoying the subtle flirtations. It was obvious he found her bashfulness amusing and it seemed to give him a weird sort of confidence maybe because he was all too often the most shy one. But Beth silently worried that he was making this into a game which didn't mean that much to him, that he was just messing around. She liked him, sure, but she didn't want to be that naïve young girl who believed it when some silver-tongued mature man said he was truly interested in her. These reservations tickled the back of her mind, but she refused to think much about them. She was still captivated by his easy strides, so silent and precise, and the way his gloved hands deftly rolled a cigarette. Smoke curled from his lips. It slid around his face and drifted into the air, like a cloud rolling off a mountain. He caught her staring and smiled. Beth, heart fluttering, snapped her gaze away and cursed the ever-present heat in her cheeks.

The clearing was cluttered with branches and debris, obviously neglected for the past few months. They set to work clearing it out. Sharp twigs clawed at Beth's hands as she dragged them aside. Her breath grew laboured as she lifted one of the larger ones onto their firewood pile. The strain in her muscles lessened as another pair of hands grabbed the other end.

"Thanks," she huffed as Daryl helped her lift it atop the pile. "You gonna do some hunting?" she asked, noticing a crossbow slung across his back and a rifle leaning against a nearby tree.

"Yeah, might get some squirrel for dinner," he shrugged. His gloves caught on the branch and he took a moment to pry them off, flicking his eyes briefly at Beth as he did so.

"We brought food, you know," Beth reminded him.

"S'not the same as huntin' it yerself," he shrugged again. His posture changed as he leaned back to look at her, like he was critically evaluating a piece of art. Reservation seemed to fleet across his face before he pushed it away with a single cough. "Uh, I could show ya how to shoot, later…" he tailed off, his previous confidence temporarily gone. It was like he put up a wall of nonchalance whenever there was the slightest chance of rejection, as if he expected her to push him away. Beth smiled widely to dispel his apprehension.

"That's be great."

"Aw, shit," Merle suddenly cursed from beside the fire pit he and Carla were crafting. "I forgot the fuckin' matches in the truck." He kicked the dirt in frustration, the usual humour that permeated his personality retreating. "Gonna have to go back for 'em."

"I'll come too. Gotta make a call," Carla wiggled her phone at arm's length, obviously struggling to get a signel. "Ya wanna come, Beth?"

Beth glanced over her shoulder at Daryl, then back to her friend. "Nah, I'll stay an' help Daryl set up the tent," she said. Not really an excuse, they did need to set up the tent before it got dark, but she relished the little spark of adrenaline that coursed through her at the thought of being alone with Daryl, if only for a while.

"Suit yourself," Carla said cheerfully, handing Beth the rolled up tent. Apparently, it was big enough for four people, but looking at its minute size Beth seriously doubted that. Merle and Carla set off down the trail, bickering good-naturedly about something or other. Beth took a deep breath, savouring the peace of the silence. She loved Carla, loved her enthusiasm and joyful nature, but sometimes you just needed to stand in silence and look at the trees. They were old trees, some covered with moss, some with bark peeling off at intervals. The air was tangy with the smell of decaying leaves and it made Beth think of log cabins and bonfires.

"Ya pickin' me over Carla now?" Daryl grunted, a smug look badly disguised behind an expression of feigned indifference.

"No! Shut up. I just wanted to set up the tent," Beth hissed at him, swinging the bundled tent at his arm.

"Hm, 'kay. If ya say so," he mumbled under his breath as he knelt beside her to untangle the mess of canvas and ropes.

"What was that, Dixon?" Beth challenged him. Her curled golden hair drifted stubbornly across her face and she fixed him with a glare as she tied it back in a bun.

"Oh, nothin'," Daryl replied innocently, but he was no longer able to contain a satisfied smirk which instantly belied his casual attitude. "Ya hair looks nice like that."

"Don't think you can distract me with flattery, Daryl. Quit teasin' me or I'll get real mad," Beth countered, but any gravity her words might of held was lost as her lips curved up into an unwilling smile.

"Scary," Daryl commented sarcastically. Beth let out a half-hearted growl of annoyance at his incessant bantering and set to work untangling the tent. The canvas stuck to itself and there were missing pegs, but before long they had got it mostly erect. Beth brushed her hands over the mesh, hoping it was enough to keep out the dew and cold. The fabric brought back memories of past camping trips, memories saturated with contentedness and even happiness. She was so lost in her nostalgia that she didn't notice Daryl coming up behind her until his soft gloves were squeezing her shoulders. "You're pretty cute when yer angry," he mumbled into the back of her head.

Beth giggled and fidgeted out of his grip so she could spin to face him. "I'm not angry," she reassured him. Her hands found their way to the lapels of his coat and the woollen warmth was a relief from the chill of the late afternoon air. Daryl smiled and the light hit his face, highlighting the stubble around his jawline. Just then, it struck Beth how older he really was, how different from herself. She knew that not one person in her life would likely approve of this, but…but they didn't know how many emotions he filled her with. Joy, nervousness, solidarity, comfort. She didn't care for their opinions. They didn't know the whole story, couldn't possibly know how each of them felt in the presence of the other. "Not yet, anyway. Keep teasing me an' see what happens," she said quietly, their proximity placing a strange limit on her voice like she couldn't quite squeeze the words out. The warning sounded like a dare, like a challenge.

"I might do that," Daryl muttered softly, his eyes flashing with defiance as he wound his arms behind her back and pulled her closer. Beth could have let her legs collapse and she'd have stayed upright, that's how firmly he held her. But it wasn't territorial or constricting, it felt safe, like being strapped into a car seat. His knuckles brushed her back as he clutched handfuls of her oversize jacket. Beth unconsciously bit her lip in anticipation, but he refused to lower his head so she could reach it. He just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Perhaps he was lost in another train of thought, or perhaps he was just taking in the petite angelic form he held in his arms.

"You ever gonna kiss me?" Beth breathed quietly, almost scared of startling him. He smirked a little before complying. It was just how she remembered; soft, warm, consuming. She tried not to let her inexperience show as the kiss deepened and she found herself at a loss for how to respond. In the end, it seemed easier to let him lead on and just follow his example. It was different, this kiss, more breathless, more loaded with connotations than their previous drunken embraced. In the cold light of a sober day, it seemed more important. Daryl released her lips and moved his caressing grazes across her jaw, eliciting a giggle of surprise from Beth.

"Too damn cute for yer own good," Daryl whispered huskily into her ear, his stance more firm and a new sense of confidence underlying his grip. He moved one hand from her lower back up to her neck, using it to tilt her head sideways. The trail of kisses grew softer as he scraped across her neck, trying not to leave any obvious trace. The day-old stubble still scratched red lines down Beth's soft skin, and she pushed back against his controlling hand so she could kiss him properly again. Her shyness wore off amongst the cloud of new sensations, overtaken by a need to absorb as much of him at once as possible. Her persistence pushed back against him and he let her fiercely kiss him for a moment before he broke away with an apologetic smile. "Calm down, darlin'," he chuckled softly, amused by her sudden need for contact.

"Don't want to," she mumbled unclearly as she stepped closer, tugging him closer with hands firmly grasping at his collar. She echoed his earlier actions and grazed across his neck with tender lips, and it took all of his self-control to step back again. "Daryl," she huffed with annoyance, this time not an ounce of it faked.

"Listen, I know this is all new and exciting for ya,"- Oh god, she thought, here it comes. He's going to tell me that he was just fooling around, he doesn't really want this. Beth's negative thoughts and previous reservations pushed to the front of her mind before Daryl could continue. –"But…just slow down a little, 'kay?" Daryl finished with a sigh. Beth stepped back with a frown on her face.

"If you don't really want this, just tell me straight out," she snapped with a hurt expression on her face. Daryl shook his head, a comforting smile across his face.

"Don't be silly, Bethy," he reassured her. She crossed her arms, glaring at him with disbelief. "Look, would ya c'mere?" Daryl grunted softly, wrapping her back up in his warm embrace. "Of course I want this," he whispered. "But yer just a kid, Beth. I dunno, I just-"

"I'm not a kid," Beth grunted indignantly, cutting him off. "I'm eighteen in two weeks and I hate being treated like a dumb middle school brat," she growled.

"Okay, okay, but ya know what I mean," Daryl soothed her apologetically. "I don't wanna get you in trouble. I don't want ya to feel like ya have to act a certain way, just because I'm older. That's what people'll say you're doin'."

"I don't care what anyone else thinks. They don't even know," Beth whispered back in dismissal. His face was so close, his jaw clenching with unspoken words, and she couldn't resist leaning up to kiss the rough surface of his cheek. His entire demeanour softened under her touch and his frown melted off his face.

"Quit bein' cute when I'm tryna talk to ya," Daryl snorted with laughter. He pressed one last kiss to her temple before dropping his arms, turning away with a confident strut that made her follow him. "Let's go huntin' until the others get back," he said, looking at her with a raised eyebrow until she nodded. He picked up the crossbow and rifle and slung them easily over his shoulder. Beth liked being alone with him. It meant she could skip after him and grab his gloved hand in both of hers, inching her fingers through his, and cling to his arm possessively as they walked towards a smaller trail to the east. He didn't seem to mind her hanging off him like a baby monkey, and she didn't mind that he pulled her closer to his side as they brushed past overgrown bushed and low-hanging branches. It was like this whole forest was theirs, and there was no one in it to judge them, and Beth was free to behave like her true self; a self that was definitely not the well behaved girl everyone thought she was.

Beth picked up the rifle. It was heavier than she thought, the cold metal and steel a threatening weight in her arms. Daryl had set up a target not far off, nothing more than an old can on a log, because Beth had outright refused to shoot any animals. Not that she was against hunting, exactly; growing up on a farm had taught her the necessity of life, death, and the cycle of life. She just couldn't bring herself to shoot a critter that was just going about its day.

"Like this?" she asked, holding it in her arms the way she'd seen it done in movies.

"Uh, not really. More like-" Daryl paused to adjust her grip, his hands ghosting over hers and rising goose-bumps on her arms- "this." Beth felt completely clueless about guns, since she'd never been allowed to go near them before. It was kind of exhilarating, to hold the power of life and death in her own two hands. "And then aim down the sights, an' shoot," Daryl guided her towards the target. The smallest squeeze set off the rifle with a loud bang, and the recoil almost knocked Beth on her ass. She giggled with embarrassment; the bullet had hit a tree about five feet from the target. "Lemme try," Daryl took the gun from her and took a shot, but he was also fairly far from the target. "Nah, I'm better with the crossbow," he muttered, picking up the weird contraption of gears, pullies, and wire. One shot, and he'd pierced the can right through its label. Birds scattered from the trees at the metallic clang.

"Wicked!" Beth clapped her hand together excitedly, the noise echoing. "Can I try?" Daryl nodded and handed it to her; it was probably longer than her entire shoulder width. She raised it to her chin and glanced at Daryl to see if she was doing it right. Judging by his expression, she was most definitely not.

"Hold it looser. Looser. Nah, yer too tense," Daryl muttered, standing behind her to line the crossbow up with her shoulder. He laid a hand on her back, and it felt like his fingertips were burning through the thick fabric of her jacket and onto her skin. Beth shivered. The cold steel of the crossbow weighed down her arms but with Daryl's hand there, she was frozen in place. "Relax," he instructed softly, pushing her shoulder blades apart a little. That had the opposite effect, since Beth inadvertently tensed up under his touch and drew in a sharp breath. "C'mon, relax this part," Daryl grunted, digging his fingers in either side of her spine, not knowing or not caring the extent a simple movement would affect her. Beth concentrated and released her muscles, trying to resist begging him to keep his hand there. She almost whined when he removed it to adjust the loaded arrow. "Better," he commented. Beth held her breath as she aimed at a second can, hoping she'd at least get near it. The arrow released with a soft twang and whistled through the air, knocking off the can. It didn't pierce it, but it was close enough and Beth smirked with pride. "Ay, nice shot," Daryl whistled.

"I have a great instructor," Beth giggled, finally letting her arms release the heavy load as Daryl took back the weapon. He pshhd her compliment away with a wave of his hand. "Oh, c'mon, you're pretty damn good at this," Beth continued. "It's pretty hot, to be honest," she teased.

"Stop," Daryl grunted, leaning down to adjust the crossbow which conveniently let his hair flop over his face and cover it.

"Aw, he's blushing," Beth announced to no one in particular, giggling at Daryl's uncomfortable sidestep. "Ya gotta take what you give, Dixon. Ain't gonna forget your teasin' in a hurry."

"Aw, stop," Daryl repeated, ruffling her head good-naturedly to take the sting out of his grouchy words. Beth had seen him do the same with Carla on many occasions and it was kind of nice for him to treat her so casually with such ease. He gathered the weapons up and glanced up. "Ya go get those arrows for me?" he asked, jerking his head towards the forest. Beth nodded. She picked them up, taking a moment to run a finger across the pointed tips. Sharp, and would probably hurt like a bitch to be shot with. She laughed to herself at the absurd thought of her ever hurting something, and took one last look around for any stragglers. She turned back to the trail, but Daryl wasn't there anymore. A little pump of adrenaline surged through her veins but she supressed it.

"Daryl?" she called out, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. No answer. Okay, it was still okay, he couldn't have gone far. "Daryl, if this is a joke it ain't very funny," she yelled out a bit louder, using anger to drown out the apprehension in her tone. "Daryl?" she tried one last time. It was a bit quieter, as if her voice had noticed how her yells echoed and wanted to hide itself. No answer. Adrenaline began surging for real now, making her heart pound. No Daryl, no idea what way their camp was, and it was getting dark. Shit.


	11. Evening

A.N.: sorry for the infrequent uploads everyone, I really appreciate your continued support :)

Beth was not an irrational person, but her first thought was that she might die out here, alone in the darkening woods. Spinning around to search for Daryl made her lose her bearings, and now the little game trail had disappeared from sight as well. Great, just great. Daryl's sharp hunter eyes probably cut through the gloomy evening light easily, but Beth's couldn't and her panic rose as she turned again, now completely disorientated.

"Daryl?" she tried one more time, a tinge of panic making her voice grate a little. Still no answer, so she stumbled hopefully towards the direction with more light. More light meant thinner forest, or perhaps even meant she was walking East towards the sun, towards camp. Twigs cracked conspicuously loud under her trainers and passing branches snagged her hair out of its tie. Nothing. No one. Apart from the ever darkening sky, it felt like time had stopped as she briskly paced through the forest, an urgent purpose in her light footfalls. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand clapped over her mouth and pulled her behind a particularly thick tree trunk. Naturally, she yelped, but the sound was muffled by the hand and within half a second she realized it was only Daryl.

"Be quiet, yer stompin' around like a soldier," Daryl hissed almost imperceptibly quietly into her ear. Her brows fell into a glare of indignation and she was about to start berating his indifference at leaving her when he shushed her again. "Dinner," he mouthed, pointing to a fat looking bird perched on a branch high above their heads. Beth waited impatiently as he drew his crossbow, looked down the sights for what seemed like an hour, before finally taking the shot.

"Asshole," she grunted as soon as the bird hit the forest floor. She shoved his arm from around her neck.

"S'only a bird," Daryl said, perplexed.

"Not that! For leaving me," Beth ground out angrily. She screwed up her nose at him, partly because of the dead bird he now picked up and partly out of frustration.

"No need to get worked up 'bout it," Daryl shrugged, an amused smirk lurking in the corners of his mouth.

"Don't do it again!" Beth said in exasperation. She knew as soon as she looked at Daryl's face that she'd made a mistake; she'd definitely just given him an idea. "Daryl, no," she warned, seeing a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Sure, I won't leave ya, if ya keep up," Daryl said smugly. Beth blinked for one second, literally just one moment, and he had melted away into the backdrop of the forest. She growled in annoyance.

"Daryl, this is not funny," she called. She was most certainly not amused by this childish game, but she had no choice because the way back to camp was still a mystery to her. She hugged her arms around herself, trying to ignore the bitter cold of the ever-darkening forest. This was just a game, she knew that, but it was hard to think of it that way. She was cold, she was annoyed, and with the threat of total darkness looming, she was a little bit terrified. It wasn't so much the darkness that scared her; it was the thought of what might be in the dark. Especially in a forest. Ever since she was little, she had to sleep with a nightlight because her vivid imagination filled blank, dark corners with all manner of evil creatures. Now that she was older, she was more sensible, but in the forest there was a very real possibility of some beast being just around the corner and her mind took advantage of that, telling her that yes, that lump ahead was definitely a bear. Or a wolf. Or both. "Daryl, please." Beth paced towards what she thought was the edge of the forest, but after five minutes of the same trees on either side of her, she conceded that she was lost. The chilly evening air made her eyes sting a little, but that wasn't the reason she had to wipe them. Daryl was just messing around, she knew that, and he probably enjoyed this sort of thing; Beth didn't. She never liked playing murder-in-the-dark at sleepovers, and she never liked walking alone through the woods at night time. "Daryl," she called out quietly, lacking the spirit to bellow it out. The wavering note and her pathetic tone must have sounded like a little kid who lost their parent at the shops. A noise cracked near to her left ear, and a split second after she heard it Daryl followed with a triumphant grin on his face.

"So, do I win at hide and seek?" he chuckled, the brightness of his smile still visible in the fading daylight. Beth nodded wordlessly, her bottom lip trembling. Daryl's face fell as he saw the look of despondency in her eyes. "C'mon, it's only a game," he said consolingly, tucking an arm around her shoulders to steer her back towards camp. The warmth of his heavy arm was an immediate comfort and Beth found the spirit to shove her elbow into his ribs.

"Don't be a jerk! I didn't know the way back," she whined indignantly. Her shove unbalanced him a little and he stumbled, a guilty grin of mischief still plastered across his face.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he conceded sincerely. He stopped their march down the trail momentarily to press a quick kiss to her downturned lips. "Forgive me?" His puppy-dog eyes blinked innocently, letting her forget the past ten minutes of minor suffering.

"Fine. Jackass." Beth shoved him once more, except this time more gently, and leaned back into his side. Now it was utterly dark, but Beth had confidence in Daryl's seemingly natural ability to find his way wherever he went in this forest. She savoured the feeling of his gloved hand resting on her shoulder, his sturdy torso shifting as he walked so closely beside her. It was picturesque; a nice guy, a dark forest, a quiet evening ahead. She never thought this would ever be a reality for her; up to this point, she'd never had luck with personal relationships, whether platonic or otherwise. As they got closer to the camp, they had to step apart, but the warmth of their closeness lingered. Carla and Merle were back, the fire was smoking steadily, and Beth spied a bag of marshmallows by the circle of stones. It promised to be a cliché, tame evening until Carla turned around with two bottles of jack in her hands.

"Ta-dah!" She called out triumphantly. Okay, perhaps this evening wouldn't be so tame after all.


	12. By The Fireside, Again

Beth was quickly finding out that this kind of camping was far, far different to the weekends she remembered from her childhood. Well, there were some similarities. Sitting around the campfire and making smores, for one; also swapping stories. But not ghost stories, oh no. Instead, Merle was regaling them with hilarious tales of his drunken adventures.

"An' then, this guy comes at me full on with a barstool an' I jus' emptied my guts on his damn fancy cowboy boots," Merle finished his second story with a cackling laughter.

"Nah, ya puked when he walloped you in the guts," Daryl corrected him indignantly. As the chortling died down among the merry group, his eyes met Beth's across the fire and he winked subtly at her. Beth was glad she could blame the toasty flames for her red cheeks, or even the cause of their merriment; the bottle of cheap, substandard liquor. There was barely a dent in the bottle's level but it was enough to instil a sense of contented camaraderie amongst the four very different people.

"Pass it over," Beth grabbed it from Carla, taking a sizable swig.

"Alright, alright, if we're gonna drink there's gotta be some order to it," Daryl interjected. He poked at the fire with his heavy, beat-up combat boots as he spoke, sending sparks and embers floating through the air.

"Drinking game!" Carla shouted excitedly, which made Merle groan with annoyance.

"Ain't playin' none of that sissy shit," Merle whined.

"Nah, it's fun. We all gotta pass the bottle an' say a lie or a fact, but if we get caught lyin', we gotta drink. If someone calls ya out and yer tellin' the truth, they gotta drink," Carla explained with accompanying hand gestures and an excited expression. Beth nodded; it sounded like a better version of games she used to play as a child at sleepovers and such.

"Sure, why not," Daryl shrugged good-naturedly. He elbowed Merle until the older brother nodded with a surly eye-roll.

"I'm starting," Carla stated the obvious. She tossed her tawny red hair across her shoulder while she thought, the firelight making tints of gold appear here and there. "Okay…I'm the one who crashed Will's bike two years ago." Beth found it kind of sad that Carla didn't even refer to her own father as "dad".

Daryl cleared his throat. "That, my dear sister, is a total lie. We all know who really pulled that stunt." His statement was followed by a very direct, noticeable stare towards Merle, who smirked devilishly. Carla shrugged and took a decent mouthful from the bottle before passing it to Beth.

"Um, I cheated on my last maths test because I saw the answers sitting on Ms Sevil's desk," Beth said. It wasn't really that interesting, but nothing else came to mind at this point.

"Gotta be a lie, for sure," Carla gasped. Beth shook her head. "No way, you fucker! You actually cheated?" Carla yipped ecstatically. She stared at Beth in amazement before remembering she had to drink again. "Goddammit," she grumbled, taking a much smaller swig this time.

"Your turn, little bro," Merle jeered at Daryl. Apparently he was getting quite into the game, despite his earlier complaining.

"Fine, here's one for ya. Merle got a speeding ticket in the middle of town 'coz he's a moron," Daryl shot back at him with a grin. All around, people shrugged and believed it. Not one person questioned it, not even Merle. Daryl's grin became more smug as he passed the bottle to Merle, obviously thrilled at winning that round.

"Right, Daryl, if ya wanna make this personal…"Merle narrowed his eyes competitively, "I know for a fact that I seen Daryl with a-" he paused for dramatic effect- "Girl."

Just for a moment, Beth's heart stopped, and she snapped her eyes to Daryl in a panic. But he was cool as a cucumber, apparently nonplussed.

"Take a drink, Merle, that's a big fat lie," he drawled easily. Merle stared at him a moment then conceded and took a deep, long drink. Beth almost sighed with relief.

"But I know ya, Daryl, I seen that glint in yer eye. Ya got some honey stored away, or what?" Merle pressed further, unwilling to drop the subject. Daryl waved a hand to dismiss his claims, despite Beth's worried glances.

"Ya know I ain't got a girl. You of all people know it's too soon," Daryl muttered quietly to Merle. That seemed to do the trick. Merle went quiet and let them get on with the game. But as they did round after round, Beth couldn't help ponder his words. It was good that their secret was safe, of course, but it still felt a bit sore to hear Daryl denouncing his relationship status. And what the hell did he mean by "too soon"? Beth tried to remind herself to ask him later but after a load of rounds, the game had disintegrated into just plain drinking and her head was a little fuzzy. It cleared a little after a good meal; Daryl's shot pigeon with the sausages and buns they had already packed.

They didn't get a chance to talk alone until later in the evening, after dinner. Beth was helping clear away the dirty plates, glad of a moment with Daryl. Their hands occasionally brushed together as they stacked cutlery and dishes, and awkward glances between them only increased Beth's butterflies. She wondered if it would ever stop, this light-headed feeling she got whenever they were closer than usual. Probably not. She hoped not.

"Ya havin' fun?" Daryl asked as a way to break the silence between them. Beth nodded eagerly. "That was a close one with Merle, wasn't it," Daryl muttered quietly.

"Sure was. But that was a good save," Beth laughed quietly. She glanced over to the fire but Carle and Merle weren't paying attention, instead they were dozing off, staring happily at the flames. It wasn't that late but the forest's night ambience had a soporific effect, somehow. "What did you mean by "too soon"? Beth asked casually, having just remembered the strange phrasing. Daryl was quiet for a moment, a very long moment, the silence only broken by the clink of plates.

"I'll tell ya another time, 'kay?" He replied. He said it with a smile to let her know he wasn't annoyed, but his tone still made Beth stop blurting out any other questions she had. They finished packing up and went back to the fire. Conveniently, the only free space was a single log which they both leaned against, perhaps a little closer than needed. The others didn't seem to care or notice, though.

"Time for a story," Carla mumbled sleepily. It was as if she had a list of camping clichés she was determined to complete, the way she kept rattling off ideas. Beth didn't mind, though, in fact it was kind of nice, kind of nostalgic in a good way. Carla began weaving a tale of ghosts and forest hauntings and lost souls; obviously completely fictitious, but she told it well enough that Beth was soon clinging to Daryl's arm in fright. He chuckled at the way she jumped and squeaked each time Carla burst out yelling for a dramatic effect, but nonetheless put up with her fingers digging into his arms. Even after Carla's terrifying story was finished and they sat silently, just enjoying the warmth of the fire, Beth was still agitated enough that she didn't let go. Daryl shook her grip loose enough to slide her hand down into his; the soft wool of his gloves wove between Beth's fingers and she tried to bite back a smile. Before long, Merle bid them goodnight and stumbled into the tent. Apparently, he's drunk more than his share of the evening's booze. Carla soon followed, mumbling something about freezing her face off out in the cold. Beth reluctantly disentangled herself from Daryl and followed her friend. The two Dixons were already snoozing in the tent, sleeping bags drawn way up around their ears. There wasn't a whole lot of space left.

"You comin' in?" Beth asked Daryl, hoping to squeeze in next to his large, warm form. He shook his head with a soft smile. "What, yer sleepin' out in the cold?" Beth spluttered.

"Nah, it's warm," Daryl pointed to the fire. "Ain't gonna trap myself in that tiny space," he snorted, stretching his arms out exaggeratedly. Beth bit her lip for a moment, thinking to herself, then she reached in and plucked some sleeping bags from the tent before zipping it up. "Whatcha doin'? Daryl muttered as she dumped them next to the log.

"D'you mind?" Beth asked shyly, fidgeting on her feet under Daryl's scrutiny.

"Not at all, sugar. Jus' didn't take ya for an outdoor sleeper," Daryl smirked. Beth shrugged and smiled back, settling in next to him. Carla was right, it was freezing, but that just gave her an excuse to get all up in his personal space. Not that he seemed to mind, judging by the way he pulled her in under his arm. The fire was still burning brightly, fed by long, thick logs that promised heat until at least dawn. It crackled and spat, drowning out the noises of the forest. Well, almost. There were still moments when Beth would hear things rustling about, and Carla's ghost story was fresh in her mind, adding to the existing memory bank of horrible beasts that lurked in the dark.

"S'matter?" Daryl grunted the third time she jumped. He was unperturbed by the apparent proximity of creatures, probably since he knew what each one was by sound alone. Beth, however, didn't.

"Nothing," she whispered, shivering not from cold but from buried fear. Daryl ran his calloused hand softly down her arm, stopping to pick up her cold fingers in his thick gloves. Minutes later, she jumped again.

"What, ya scared now?" Daryl smirked. Beth shook her head indignantly, glad her lying face was disguised by shadows. "Yes, you are," Daryl chuckled in a teasing voice.

"Nuh-uh," Beth huffed. It wasn't that she thought he'd ridicule her for being scared, it was just that she hated admitting weakness about anything.

"What're ya scared of, sugar"? Daryl's voice was light and playful. "Ya scared of me?" he pretended to growl and bite her neck. Beth giggled and squirmed away from the tickle of his stubble. "No? What else, then?" Daryl mused out loud. He cast his gaze around the campsite, all the while keeping his arm tucked firmly around Beth's shoulders, to let her know he was just teasing. "How about fire. Ya scared the fire might roast us alive?"

"Don't be silly, Daryl," Beth scolded him, biting back another giggle. It was just so amusing to see the usually serious, no-nonsense loner start mucking around like a kid.

"Hey, yer the one that's bein' silly, all jumpy an' shit when there's nothing here," Daryl said in a falsely stern tone. Beth laid her head across his chest, nudging her head up by his chin, while he continued to joke around. "Oh, I know, it's the dark," Daryl said with a gasp, as if he'd just discovered the answer to some great mystery. Beth nodded slowly, her speech impaired since her face was buried somewhere in his neck. "That's cute, Beth. Still afraid of the dark at your age," Daryl chortled to himself. Beth grumbled wordlessly in annoyance. "Nah, I don't blame ya, all sorts of nasty shit out there," Daryl shrugged, dead-panned and serious. He couldn't hold back a grin of amusement as Beth raised her face to glare at him.

"Remember what I said, Dixon. You tease me, I'll get angry," Beth tried to growl back, but it ended up as more of a whisper.

"Okay. I'm sorry," Daryl conceded with another irresistibly soft smile, before leaning forward a fraction to give her a soft peck on the lips. Beth grinned, glad he'd finally started something worth raising her head from its warm position. She returned the kiss, taking it slowly but demanding more than a brief peck. Moments passed, or it could have been minutes, and Beth found herself increasingly breathless as she tried to make up for lost time. Eventually, she had to draw back, flushed and breathing a little heavy.

"What, not gonna tell me to slow down?" Beth challenged with a glint of passion in her eye.

"Nope," Daryl grinned devilishly. He extracted one hand from the warmth of his sleeping bag to draw her head closer, and Beth let him take the lead for a while. And what a lead he took. Their bodies weren't exactly close through the layers of jackets and blankets, but Beth could still feel the firm strength of his build as he held her. His mouth was gentle, especially as he explored her jawline, but it was still demanding enough that she whined a little as he deepened the kiss. She quivered under his touch as lips parted and he concentrated on coaxing her tongue out of its comfort zone. Beth had never felt a sensation so soft, yet so electrifying, and she whined with annoyance as he pulled back.

"Don't do that, Dixon," Beth huffed angrily.

"What, kiss ya?"

"No, I mean don't stop halfway through," Beth mumbled, barely coherent as she returned to their embrace. She tried to mimic his technique, parting her lips just enough to slip into his mouth, but it was far less finessed. Obviously, he'd had more experience. Beth didn't know if that made her glad or jealous. Daryl, between her inexperienced attempts at a more passionate kiss, was wearing an exceptionally cocky grin. Beth paused and looked at him, her arms braced across his chest. "What?"

"Nothing, it's jus' cute when you try so hard," he whispered, unconsciously biting his lip while he appraised her. Golden hair flying, the bun long since unravelled, and eyes alight with enjoyment and perhaps the smallest hint of lust. He kissed her again, but more slowly, softly, as if taking time to appreciate the essence of her being. Beth wasn't in an appreciating mood, though, and she demanded a return to the more fervent, frenzied embrace. She shuddered as his mouth drifted down her neck and he added another hand to the fray, this time to reach down into the arch of her back and pull her closer. "Pretty little thing," he murmured quietly as she settled into his grasp. Beth tried to contain her smile but it was too hard, too much happiness coursed through her veins. He was just so sweet, so gentle, and she'd never imagined it from looking at him. Even after getting to know him, she'd had no idea, since he kept his softer side well concealed most of the time. But these few moments of being so close to him, both literally and figuratively, had opened her eyes to what she hoped was just the surface of the "real" Daryl.

"You're such a character, Daryl," Beth laughed softly as their eyes met. They spoke quietly, not wanting to wake the others, but not wanting to sleep just yet. It was mostly about nothing, Beth just asking questions about his bikes and his hobbies, and Daryl replying steadily. Eventually, the night got the better of them and as time wore on, sleep claimed their eyelids. Beth was the first to drift off, still safely wrapped in Daryl's arms, and still with a smile across her lips. Even as she fell asleep, the only thoughts on her mind were of the strange, wonderful person who was holding her so tightly it blocked out the darkness.


	13. Smoke

Three days. Three flawless days they had spent in the woods, drinking, laughing, getting closer. Not just Beth and Daryl, but all four mismatched people that had come together despite their differences. Heck, Beth even felt herself warming slightly to Merle's abrasive personality. A little. Still, it was euphoric to spend so much time with her two favourite people, Carla and Daryl. She felt like she was spoiling herself, like she was being treated to a priceless luxury vacation even though it was only a few days in the woods. And nights. Glorious, heart-stopping nights spent with Daryl by the fire. Beth smiled to herself as she cast her mind back to those moments by the dull glow of the embers, remembering how the heat of the flames and Daryl's body warmed her from both sides, and how his smile warmed her from the inside.

They were driving back now, much to her regret. Everyone was pretty quiet, tired from long days and sleepless nights. Daryl was driving, Carla was hanging her head out the window half asleep, and Beth was squished between them.

"Are you sure he's okay back there?" Beth asked Daryl, jabbing her thumb towards the tray of the ute where Merle was splayed out amongst their bags and belongings. He was blackout drunk, as usual, a culmination of daily alcohol consumption finally catching up with him.

"Yeah, he's fine. Does this all the time," Daryl snorted with a roll of his eyes. He had one hand lazily on the steering wheel, the other hung out the window with a smouldering cigarette trailing from his fingers. He took his eyes off the road as he raised the cigarette to his mouth and dragged the smoke in deeply. One flick of his eyes to the side caught Beth staring. "Want a go?" He asked, holding it out to her. Beth shook her head and looked away.

"It's not good for you," she shrugged defensively at his sly grin, as if he knew she'd refuse, but wanted to test her anyway. "Quit lookin' at me, look at the road." Daryl snorted again at her bossy tone. "What?" she asked incredulously, squirming under his incessant gaze.

"Nothin," he laughed softly, but he put the cigarette out.

Beth fell asleep soon after that exchange. Somehow she found herself leaning against Daryl's shoulder, breathing in the smoky scent of his flannel shirt. Like most shirts he seemed to own, the sleeves were ripped off and she could feel his warm skin on her cheek. He didn't push her off, even when he had to use that arm to shift gear he did it softly enough that she didn't wake. If Beth had her eyes open, she might have seen the way he glanced at her peaceful face fondly now and then, but she was oblivious to it, instead dozing off in the warm sun that filtered in through the cracked window.

They had been on the highway a long time before the smoky smell that had lulled her to sleep changed and woke her. It was more acrid now, it swarmed her lungs and made her eyes sting. She awoke with a cough and rubbed her eyes.

"What is it?" She wondered aloud, staring out of the windscreen at the thick grey blanket that was rolling across the road, a darker pillar of smoke trailing into the atmosphere.

"Big fire, to the east," Daryl muttered, slowing down. He yelled out the window to check on Merle while Beth shook Carla awake.

"Fuck, that's bad," Carla yawned as she wound up her window to stop the suffocating smog. They drove a few more minutes and the smoke grew stronger and thicker.

"Where are we?" Beth asked, disorientated after being asleep for so long. She couldn't see any landmarks as the surrounding scenery was obliterated by thick smoke. Daryl was silent, biting his lip as he slowed even more and squinted against the smoke. He wouldn't look at Beth. She immediately knew something was wrong. "Daryl, tell me where we are."

"We're, um, at your driveway," Daryl muttered, wincing as his words made Beth gasp and swear loudly. For once, Carla didn't congratulate her foul language, her lips devoid of smiles or jokes as she realised the severity of the situation. Beth fumbled with her seatbelt, ripped it off, and scrambled over Carla. She practically leapt out of the door and ran down the driveway, barely able to see.

"Come back, Beth! You don't know what's going on," Carla shouted after her. "Daryl, wake Merle up and drive down. I'm going after her," Carla shouted over her shoulder as she raced to follow Beth.

The two girls ran down the driveway, coughing, barely able to breathe. Carla ripped the flannel shirt that was tied around her waist in half and offered Beth half to tie over her face like a bandit's mask.

They ran and ran until smoke and fatigue made their legs shake and Beth had to stumble to a halt. "Carla, look," she cried out in despair, pointing to the barn. Or, what was left of the barn. It was now a towering inferno spewing blackened smoke into the sky. An even more sickening sight was her mother screaming and pointing to the flaming doors where Hershel had just disappeared.

"Beth! Thank god you're home," Maggie shouted to her left, appearing from the house.

"Where's dad? What happened?" Beth yelled back, whipping back and forth between staring at the burning barn and her frantic sister.

"The hayloft caught fire. I called the fire department but they're taking so long to get here," Maggie panted as she jogged past. Carla and Beth followed her.

"Mom," Beth sobbed and grabbed her elbow. "Where's daddy?" Her mother, too distraught to speak, gestured to the flames. Beth shook her head and ran to the doors, but the heat was too intense and she couldn't force herself to walk through them. She also couldn't force herself to walk away, barely able to make out the form of her father further inside the building. A hand grabbed her waist and pulled her away from the furnace, and she recognized Daryl's firm grip. She'd been so caught up in the moment that she hadn't even noticed the rusted old truck pull up.

"Git back," Merle shouted over his shoulder as he and Daryl pushed past her and into the building.

"What the fuck are you doing, idiots?" Carla cried after them in anger and fear.

"Get the fuck OUT," Beth yelled as loud as she could.

"Bethy, Daddy went back in to get Nelly. She got trapped," Maggie said breathlessly as she clutched Beth's arm. Both girls looked at each other in terror, concerned for their father but also for that dear horse they'd both learnt to ride on.

An agonizing two minutes went by before movement was seen near the door. Flames had engulfed the frame but there was still a gap in the wall of heat, and through that gap came a charging chestnut horse, eyes wide with fear and snorting with terror. Beth caught her halter as she ran past and pulled her to a halt, stroking her scorched mane to calm her. "Okay, okay girl, whoa down," she murmured as the mare danced and jostled around. Beth's eyes teared up with smoke and despair as she looked towards the burning barn. "Daryl," she called hopelessly. Later on when she'd had time to muse, she might wonder why she'd called out to him and not her father. But right now, it was his name she screamed again and again, until three figures came stumbling to the doorway. Hershel was held up between the two Dixon brothers, and all three men were covered in soot with holes burnt by embers littering their clothes. But they were all alive and walked out of the barn, in Hershel's case heavily supported. Maggie and her mother ran forwards with delighted sobs and crushed Hershel in a hug, and then the two women turned to the Dixons. Where previously there had been mistrust in their eyes, there was now only adoration as Maggie pulled the unwilling Dixons into her arms and Annette thanked them profusely. Beth, still struggling to hold onto Nelly's halter, watched in disbelief. Never in a million years had she thought that she'd see her family embracing the Dixons. Daryl quietly extracted himself from the clutches of her family and walked over to Beth.

"She alright?" he asked softly, so as not to startle the mare, as he got closer.

"She's okay, thanks to you. And my dad is too. Daryl, I- thank you," Beth broke out in a sob. She put an arm around Daryl as best she could with one hand still on Nelly, and squeezed the daylights out of him. The poor man had probably never got this many hugs in his whole life, but he still returned the gesture. Beth clung to him as he wound his arms around her, and she rubbed her tear-streaked face on his burnt shirt. It smelt like smoke still, but not pleasant campfire smoke, more acidic and tar-like. Beth didn't care, not when his soothing hands were on her back rubbing away the adrenaline and terror of the last fifteen minutes. Maybe if everyone wasn't so busy crowding around Hershel, they would have noticed the strange pair locked in such a close embrace but for now, they were distracted. Daryl laid a subtle kiss on Beth's hairline as he pulled away and made himself busy looking over the horse.

Later, the yard somehow got even busier. The fire department finally came to extinguish the blaze, but it was far too late to save the barn. Maggie's boyfriend Glenn had come over straight away and was helping to clear the charcoal mess up. Beth, still reeling from coming home to such a terrifying event, had excused herself to the kitchen. She sat there at the table, hands clasped together in a white-knuckled grip, and tried to calm down. Out of the window, she could see Glenn and Maggie chatting to Merle, being more than civil and polite. One upside of this whole fiasco, Beth realized, was that maybe her family wouldn't hold the Dixons in contempt anymore. Even Hershel and Annette had been tearfully thanking them as they got into the ambulance called for her father. But they'd still lost the barn, and all of the hay meant for winter. As if money wasn't tight enough already. Beth sighed, but she knew they'd get through it as they always did when something challenged their family.

An intriguing sight caught her attention; Carla, pacing up and down the porch, talking on the phone. Beth was surprised, as usually Carla was the calmest among them. Something had got her rattled, judging by the way she was raising her voice, but Beth was too exhausted to think about that right now. A knock on the doorframe behind her made her look up to see Daryl walking in, freshened up and wearing one of Hershel's old shirts. He filled out the plain white cotton, which wrapped around his athletic figure in a most enticing way. Beth had to stop herself looking; now wasn't the time for wishful thinking.

"Ya okay,?" Daryl asked. He sounded concerned as he sat next to her and put a hand on the table, close enough for her to grab if she wanted. Beth nodded but wouldn't look at him. "It'll be alright," Daryl smiled reassuringly and placed his other hand on her shoulder. Somehow, when you're already upset, someone showing kindness make you cry even more than if they were to snap at you. Beth's face crumpled at his kind-heartedness and she buried her face in her sooty hands. Daryl said nothing, just pulled her a little closer, and she turned to him. It was an awkward position since they were both sitting, but somehow they made it work.

"It's all gone," Beth cried, sniffing. "Our hay for the winter. The barn-"

"But you're daddy's okay, ain't he?" Daryl shushed her. His arms seemed to circle her entire existence, drawing her into a warm safe bubble. "And Nelly, she's okay as well," he whispered quietly, since his mouth was so close to her ear. Beth nodded and wriggled until she could wipe her eyes with her sleeve. "See, things'll be jus' fine."

"You're a softy," Beth mumbled with a sniff. "Big ol' softy. Can't fool me with your biker jacket and tough talkin' anymore," she managed to smile up at him. He chuckled with delight at seeing her grin and gave her a quick kiss. She leant back towards him and demanded another, this time much slower and meaningful. "Thank you, Daryl," she whispered, not sure if she was talking about just today or everything in general. He shrugged and blushed like he always did when complimented.

"Ain't nothin'," he muttered bashfully. Beth shook her head at his shyness. It was a different kind of shyness to hers, but somehow more endearing. She snuck one last kiss before regretfully pulling away, lest they be discovered. Beth looked out the window again to see Carla, still pacing.

"Is Carla okay?" she asked Daryl, resting her knee a little closer to his, just that tiny bit of contact bringing her clarity.

Daryl sighed and rubbed his face. "Yeah, she's fine. Jus'…her mother called." Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise. In the many months of knowing Carla, she'd rarely mentioned her mother and never spoke about contacting her. Daryl saw her confusion and shook his head. "Don't bring it up, unless she does. Those two ain't quite got things worked out. It's, uh, a touchy subject for Carla," he explained. Beth nodded.

"I understand. Maggie and Shawn get touchy about their real mom as well. I'll leave it alone," she smiled. Daryl looked grateful as he bumped his knee against hers. He was done with words, as he so often was, but his actions sometimes spoke much louder. Actions like the way he put a hand softly over hers on the table and ran his fingers up and down hers before winding them together with an affectionate squeeze. Outside was still chaos so Beth was more than happy to sit there in the spacious kitchen and just exist in the same space as Daryl Dixon. He was more than enough to drown out the noise and kerfuffle of the rest of her life.


	14. Dinner Party

**Author's note: as always, i am so so grateful for the nice responses you guys give my story. Glad you're enjoying it! 3**

Beth shut the bathroom door behind her and leant against it, taking a deep breath. She looked into the mirror and stared at her own eyes. They were filled with surprise and tension, and for good reason. Daryl Dixon was at her house having dinner. With her parents.

It was a week after the fire, and her parents had casually mentioned she should invite the Dixon's over for dinner as a thank-you gesture. At first, she had been excited, but now that they were here, Beth was becoming more and more nervous. Carla was no trouble, she had stayed with Beth previously and Hershel and Annette had begrudgingly admitted that she was a polite guest and a nice young girl. But Beth hadn't ever seen Daryl or Merle behave in a way that her parents would call polite, and they most certainly weren't her parents' definition of nice young men. Beth groaned inwardly as she walked back into the dining room and took her place next to Carla. Across the table, the Dixon brothers sat awkwardly avoiding eye contact with most other people. Daryl caught the girl's gaze and made a face as if to say, holy shit am I out of my depth here. Beth had to hold back a snort of laughter.

"It's so nice to have you, we can't possibly tell you how grateful we are but…" Maggie attempted to start some sort of conversation. It was cramped around the table with four extra people, since Glenn had joined them for dinner as well, and the amount of people made it hard to avoid looking at someone you didn't particularly want to talk to. Merle cleared his throat.

"No need to thank us, that's just the way our dad raised us. Help your neighbours, that sorta thing," he said awkwardly. Beth had never once heard him complete a full sentence without a swear word or rude euphemism, but she was eternally thankful he seemed to be putting on an air of civility. Daryl seemed to bristle at the mention of his father, but no one except Beth seemed to notice the subtle change.

Conversation gradually trickled out of the strange group, and by the time dessert was served everyone was getting along just fine. Beth and Carla talked and laughed amongst themselves, until an interesting turn in the conversation made them pause and listen in.

"No, I'm between jobs right now," Daryl had been saying. Evidently the conversation had steered towards occupation, as it always did when boring adults were getting acquainted.

"Well, I'd be happy to offer you a few days' work here. Could use all the help we can get, rebuilding the barn," Hershel smiled jovially. He was clutching a glass of wine and was at the right stage of inebriation where he was happy and charming, everyone's best friend, and probably not thinking straight. If he'd been sober, Beth doubted he would have offered a biker, let alone a Dixon, a single penny. Much to Beth's shock, Daryl nodded in agreement and raised his own glass to Hershel's, the glassy clink sealing their deal. Beth and Carla sat there, mildly shocked, but happy nonetheless. Daryl caught their shocked expressions and winked smugly. Beth didn't know if she was reading too far into that wink, but she had a small idea of why Daryl had agreed to this job.

After dinner, Beth was glad to excuse herself to the kitchen to help tidy up. Merle and her father were discussing hunting seasons and Daryl was animatedly explaining why motorbikes were the best vehicle out there to Maggie and Glenn. It was almost too good to be true, the way everyone was getting on, and Beth didn't want to tempt fate.

"You know what Beth, I think I might actually like the Dixons," Maggie whispered to her as she came into the kitchen carrying stacks of plates.

Beth rolled her eyes. "Duh, Maggie, that's what I've been saying this whole time. They're cool, right?"

"Uh-huh," Maggie nodded. Her grin turned devilish as she leant even closer to whisper, "especially Daryl, huh?" Beth froze for a second before she could compose herself enough to shrug casually. "Oh come on, you totally have a crush on him," Maggie laughed.

"Keep your voice down," Beth hissed, her face beetroot red. "Don't be ridiculous, you idiot."

"Holy shit Beth, you do! I was only joking, but-" Maggie's victorious crowing was cut short by Hershel coming into the kitchen.

"Don't cuss, Maggie," he tutted, frowning at his daughters.

"Sorry, daddy," Maggie apologized immediately. She pulled Beth aside out of earshot and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "So? Do you?"

"Ugh, Maggie! He's Carla's brother," Beth scoffed, hoping she was doing a good enough job at acting disgusted by the mere thought. She couldn't let on that the tension between her and the younger Mr Dixon was a tad bit more than a crush.

"That's true, you know. Don't let him get in the way of your friendship," Maggie warned her seriously.

"Stop making this weird, Maggie, he's just my friend," Beth whispered back angrily. It felt weird to call him that. Maggie finally let up her teasing after a few minutes and walked back to help Hershel with the washing up, but something she said stuck with Beth. It was true, she'd let Daryl kind of take all her attention away from Carla. She felt a little guilty, seeing as Carla had been acting off ever since that phone call from her mother. Beth always liked to fix mistakes as quick as she could, so while the others were still chatting over after-dinner drinks she subtly dragged Carla upstairs.

"Finally, I think they were about to start talking taxes," Carla grimaced as she flumped over on Beth's bed. "It's weird to see those two idiots acting like adults, hey," she commented with a laugh.

"Yeah, I had no idea they had it in them," Beth sniggered. "When Merle started complaining about the weather I nearly spilled my drink."

They laughed and talked a little more, finally able to discuss what they wanted, namely the latest episode of their favourite show and some online drama between their class mates. Gradually, Beth steered the conversation towards Carla. She remembered Daryl's warning about not pushing the subject, but she was honestly worried about Carla and doubted she would bring it up first.

"So, uh, I happened to glance at your phone the other day, and saw a text from your mom," Beth ventured carefully. She knew Carla wouldn't mind this invasion of privacy, they practically proof-read each other's texts all the time but this was a little different. Carla was quiet for a moment then sighed.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. She wants to meet up," Carla admitted with a humph.

"That's great! Right?" Beth smiled happily.

"Yeah, I guess. We stopped talking after she divorced Will, since she didn't want anything to do with him. Can't blame her there. But it's been years," Carla shrugged. "To be honest, I'm a little nervous to see her again."

"Yeah, understandable," Beth nodded. "But hey, it'll be great to see her again."

"So you think I should? Because she offered to have me stay for a few days," Carla bit her lip nervously. Beth nodded enthusiastically.

"You want be to come with you?"

"Nah, this is something I have to do on my own. Without you, without my idiot brothers. Thanks, though," Carla sighed.

They talked for a while more, and Beth was astounded that she had finally opened up so much to talk about her mother. It was nice, she felt like they were even closer now, and the guilt from ignoring her because of Daryl had subsided a bit.

Later, as they were saying goodnight to the unlikely guests, Daryl pulled her aside.

"The hell you say to Carla? She's finally agreed to go see her ma. Even smiled about it, too," Daryl whispered happily.

"That's a good thing, right?" Beth asked, worried he would be angry about her ignoring his advice to leave it alone.

"Yeah, it's fuckin' great. Much rather she had her ma around instead of Will," Daryl snorted. Beth rolled her eyes in amusement at his inability to hold back on the swearing as soon as her parents were out of earshot. Merle beeped the horn impatiently.

"See ya tomorrow," Daryl winked, letting his hand brush her arm for a split second before he stepped away.

"Tomorrow?" Beth asked in confusion.

"Yeah, I'm gonna help yer dad with the barn," he grinned at her silently delighted look. "Might even squeeze in a little Beth time in my lunch break," he whispered so quietly she could barely make it out. She blushed violently as he put a hand on her elbow to pull her closer, and he kissed her flaming cheek ever so courteously, like any good guest saying goodnight to their host. Only Beth caught the devilish glint in his eyes as he walked away. As they waved off the Dixons in their rusty old truck, Maggie again raised her eyebrows at Beth and smirked with irritating smugness. Oh hell. It would be hard enough to contain herself when Daryl was working a few yards from her back porch all day, but it would be even harder to hide their secret with Maggie acting like a schoolgirl trying to guess her crushes. Still, any amount of trouble would be worth seeing Daryl every day.


	15. Pony

It was an unseasonably hot day and Beth silently thanked the universe, because that meant Daryl was wearing a scandalously loose tank top while he worked. He never took his shirt off, Beth realized, but this was the next best thing. Shoulders and neck gleaming with sweat and his sculpted torso partly exposed; he was the embodiment of lustful thoughts. Beth sipped her can of lemonade, glad from a break from the gruelling work of clearing charcoal and digging holes for the support beams. Everyone was lending a hand, but Daryl was doing most of the heavy lifting and Beth was selfishly grateful for the exhibition of his strength and athleticism. She meandered closer, a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes, and held out a can of lemonade to the laboring man.

"Thanks, darlin'," he smiled sweetly as he paused his work to take it from her. She blushed and concentrated on sipping her own so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Ya look damn cute today, Beth," Daryl added quietly with a smirk, apparently enjoying making her blush so hard.

"Shut up, idiot, Maggie's just over there," she hissed with a giggle, pointing to the other end of the barn's wreckage where Glenn and Maggie were meant to be working, but instead were flirting and laughing. Beth was a little jealous of their freedom to express their love so openly; she would give anything to smile at Daryl's sweet little comments, wrap her arms around his muscled body, and thank him with a few too many kisses. Instead, they were forced to keep a respectful distance while the others were around to see them.

Daryl shrugged. "She won't hear, she's busy."

"Well, okay then. I guess you could say it one more time," Beth giggled happily.

"Yer cute," Daryl said, pausing from skulling his drink to run his eyes across her body. Beth smiled and had to contain her childish giggles before she burst out again. She always found it annoying when girls were all desperate and clingy around guys, lapping up their attention and craving more. But the way she felt when Daryl looked at her that way, when he complimented her or said something sweet, she was beginning to understand. And she did look cute. She made sure of that before she stepped out of the house that morning, acutely aware that Daryl would be coming to start work on the barn, so she chose her best yellow shirt and her prettiest overalls with little flowers embroidered around the hems.

"I gotta go feed the hens," she regretfully dragged herself away from the construction site, away from Daryl. As she scattered grain for the clucking flock of chickens, she couldn't help glance over a little too frequently as Daryl worked. He was sawing planks in half now, his arms looking deliciously strong as they worked the saw. Tearing her eyes away to collect eggs from the nest box, Beth smiled to herself. It was delightful to know that those arms would, with any luck, be around her at some point soon. And those lips, that had quirked upwards with a smile at her giggling, would soon be on hers. If only they could get one damn minute alone. Beth's phone beeped with an update from Carla; she'd left early that morning to see her mother and was giving Beth regular updates. This one contained about twenty smiley faces; evidently, her reunion with her mother was going well so far. Beth smiled as she replied, glad something was going well for Carla. Will seemed like a horrible parent figure to have so she was happy that Carla had a chance at something better. Beth was grateful that her own family, despite their bickering and regular fights, was mostly supportive. The tension between them caused by Beth's friendship with the Dixons had mostly disappeared since her parents realized that perhaps they weren't such a bad influence, perhaps they were more than bikers and rednecks. It was nice, and with two more weeks of holidays before school went back, Beth was feeling decidedly happy with her life. She got even happier when Daryl looked up briefly from his work, saw her watching, and waved. It was so cute, like he was a little boy waving to the girl next door, and Beth giggled again as she waved back.

"If a guy makes you giggle like that, you can't pretend you don't like him," Maggie said, appearing suddenly by her shoulder. Beth jumped and glared at her sister.

"Quit it, Maggie! He's just bein' friendly," she growled indignantly.

"He might be, but you're a different story," Maggie laughed as she and Glenn disappeared inside, presumably to get a drink and spend some time alone. Beth stuck out her tongue as she walked away and then glanced around. Her parents were getting in the truck, off to town to fetch more supplies for the barn. Beth's heart beat a little faster. Shawn was out checking cattle, so that meant no one was around the yard except her and Daryl. She skipped back to the barn, trying not to run and appear too eager.

"The fuck-" Daryl yelped with surprise as she ran up behind him and grabbed his ribs. "Quit it, cheeky little gnat," he laughed and squirmed away from her tickling fingers. "Beth Greene, I am tryin' to do my work," he growled with false annoyance. "How'm I gonna do that with yer cute lil face distracting me?"

"Oh, have a break just for a while," Beth whined pleadingly, batting her eyelids as she tugged his hand towards the shady trees next to the barn. He conceded with a sigh and let her lead him to the shaded grass, where they both sat down with a contented sigh, perhaps a little closer than friends would have sat.

"Sure no one's aroun'?" Daryl asked. He checked over his shoulder, but the yard was deserted.

"Yeah. Daddy's gone to town with mom, and Shawn's out with the cows," Beth smiled, her excited joy badly hidden behind her casual tone. "And Maggie and Glenn are in the house alone, so no mystery about what THEY'RE doing," she rolled her eyes. Daryl laughed.

"Good. Got ya all to myself, then," he murmured happily, plonking an arm casually around her shoulders. They sat in silence and finished their cans of lemonade. Beth half wished it was something stronger, so they could be flirtatious and hands-on like always when they were tipsy. It was a nice change though, to sit underneath the trees and just be with him, looking at the pretty scenery of sprawling fields. Beth's mind wandered back to their camping trip, and all the happy moments just like this one. A thought sprung into her mind and she tipped her head back to look at Daryl.

"You ever gonna tell me what Merle meant that night by the fire? When he said it was too soon, or somethin'?" she asked casually, playing with a thread hanging from Daryl's ripped jeans. Immediately he stiffened. "What?" Beth's tone became more serious.

"Jus' forget what Merle's big mouth blurts out when he's drunk, 'kay?" Daryl murmured. A distant look came into his eyes and Beth turned a little more to look at him, her head cocked inquisitively to one side. His arm fell off her shoulders as he rubbed a hand over his tired face. "I warned ya before, Beth. There's some parts of my life yer better off not knowing," Daryl said firmly, insistent on shutting her down.

"But I don't ca-"

"Would ya drop it, Beth?" Daryl growled, and he barely raised his voice above normal but she could tell he meant it. She nodded and shifted away from him, now equally as tense as he was. A few moments passed of each person thinking of something to say, before Daryl reached out and laid a hand on the nape of her neck. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap," he muttered, as usual becoming awkward and unsure how to convincingly apologize when he upset her. She let his hand drift back down to her shoulder, pulling her back in to his side. His other hand reached over to smooth back the baby hairs that had escaped her braid. Now cupping her face, he gently eased her chin up so they were level. "'Ay. I'm sorry. Jus' tell me when I'm being an asshole," he mumbled earnestly, refusing to break their gaze, his deep-sea eyes a comforting trap. Beth smiled and wriggled out of his grasp, shifting to her knees.

"You're only a little bit of an asshole," she comforted him. A moment of hesitation crossed her face, then she crawled over till she was straddling his stretched out legs, practically sitting on his lap. "But I forgive you." She echoed his earlier movements by cupping his face. "And I'm sorry for prying," she added briefly, and cut off any reply he might have given when she leaned forward to kiss him. His stubble rubbed her hands and she felt his jaw move under her fingers as the kiss deepened, and she decided she liked this change of being on top, in charge for once. Not just because of her physical position, but because he was meek and apologetic and eager to please her. She smirked to herself as she pulled back, much to Daryl's annoyance. His hands had found their way back to her hair and gently tugged her forwards, but she wouldn't let him closer than a few inches. "Tell me I'm cute," she whispered. Daryl snorted a little, but complied.

"Yer cute," he went along with her little game good-naturedly. Beth smiled and kissed him once, twice, only brief pecks. Then she moved her hands from his cheeks to cover his mouth so he couldn't return them.

"Say it like you mean it," she laughed softly, moving her hands just enough that he could speak.

"Yer a tease, Beth Greene," was what he replied with instead. Immediately, her hands went back over his mouth.

"That's not what you're meant to say!" she giggled with fake astonishment, backing off further so there was no way his lips could reach her. Daryl rolled his eyes, his hands planted firmly on Beth's hips, and he simply pulled her forwards till their chests were almost touching. The small gap between their faces was filled by Beth's fingers, until he whipped her hands away and held them down on the grass that was still damp, shaded from the mid-morning sun.

"You're. a. tease," he repeated slowly, a flirtatious smirk spreading across his face with every word. Beth moved to touch their lips together but he turned at the last second, her kiss instead landing on his stubbled, sunburnt cheek. "An' I have to git back to work," he fixed her with a stern look. Beth whined and tried to pull her hands from his grasp, but he was playfully firm.

"Don't be a spoilsport," Beth whined, tapping her toes on the grass. Her knees were a little sore from being fully bent, so she sat even more firmly on his lap. His torso was delightfully warm to lean against, and she didn't so much care that her overalls had slipped a little so her bare midriff could brush against the scrap of thin fabric covering Daryl's. "You can't leave if I don't get off," she grumped at him. Daryl scoffed and raised his eyebrows.

"Since when were you such a brat?" he scolded her jokingly, finally releasing her hands as she kept jostling them around. Beth shrugged and stopped their conversation with an intense kiss. Daryl returned it, allowing her to take the lead, even though she was inexperienced and didn't quite understand how to use her tongue. That didn't stop her from trying, though, and she even let her hands creep under the hem of his shirt, just for the exhilarating experience of feeling the soft skin of his toned back under her hands. "Geez, slow down. Yer like a racehorse without a rider," Daryl laughed softly, extracting her hands before she could go any further.

"You could be my rider," Beth breathed into his mouth, caught up in the breathlessness of the kiss and the softness of his skin. Daryl let out a bark of laughter, his mouth hanging open in shock. It was the first vaguely dirty thing she'd ever said to him, and probably the first euphemism she'd used in all her life.

"Whoa, hold on there," Daryl sputtered in disbelief. "Besides, yer more like a pony, ain'tcha? Little palomino thing," he chuckled. He kissed her one final time, still laughing to himself. He easily hoisted her off his lap and stood, brushing grass and dirt from his jeans. Beth grumbled and whined but allowed him to help her up from the ground.

"C'mon, before we get caught and yer daddy shoots me," Daryl smirked as they made their way back to what was left of the barn.

It was harder than Beth thought that afternoon, to go from being so intimate with Daryl and then switch back to friend-mode when the others came back to help with the construction. Her parents were unloading supplies, and Glenn helped hold up beams as Daryl nailed them in place to form the framework. Most of the rubble had been cleared and now, after just under a day's worth of construction, the skeleton of a new barn was almost in place. Beth and Maggie ran between each side of the framework, helping either Hershel or Daryl as they added boards.

"Hand me some nails, would ya?" Daryl called over his shoulder as he and Glenn struggled to hold up a particularly large segment. Beth scooped up a handful and brought them over. "Thanks, pony," Daryl grunted casually. Beth's face went fire-truck red at the nickname and she quickly walked away before someone noticed. Godammit. How did he always know what words would make her face flush with fire? She shook her head, half hoping he'd drop it, but she also kind of liked the nickname. It was cute, and its origin was a moment she'd like to remember for a long, long time.

The afternoon wore on, and Beth took a break from building to finish her evening chores, leaving the others to pack up the tools, done with work for the day. It was looking pretty good, and selfishly, Beth wished it was taking longer to build. It was nice having Daryl around, it made her home seem a little more happy and she just loved the ever-present butterflies in her stomach each time she would look out a window or across the yard and see Daryl working away. Oh well, at least she had a few more days to enjoy his proximity. Water splashed her hands as she turned on the kitchen sink to wash away the sawdust and soot of the day's work. Daryl had come in from the yard and swaggered up behind her while she wasn't paying attention. He grabbed her, kneading her ribs and laughing at her squeals of surprise and then of ticklishness.

"Payback for earlier," he laughed in her ear, finally releasing her from his iron grip. "I'm gonna head home soon," he murmured, wrapping his dirt-covered arms around her.

"Eww, Dixon! I just put on a clean shirt," Beth laughed with mock disgust, pushing his arms off. "You sure you're not gonna stay for dinner?"

"Nah, I used up every conversation topic I have at that dinner last night," Daryl grimaced. Beth sighed and made an over-exaggerated sad face. "I'll be back tomorrow, pony," Daryl coaxed her back into his arms, his words forcing a smile onto her face. Beth giggled at the nickname and twisted her hands in his long, sweaty hair, pulling his face down so she could reach his lips with hers.

They sprang apart like lightning as footsteps on the porch announced the arrival of everyone else, and then the kitchen was filled with people, forcing them to stay much further away than either of them would have liked. Hershel approached Daryl, beaming, and shook his hand.

"Nice work today, son," he smiled. Beth still couldn't get over her dad being civil to Daryl. Even shaking his hand was a big gesture, not to mention calling him son. She was happy, though. It was good to see the two men she loved most getting on. As soon as she thought that, a rush of shock went through her mind. Had she really just said that? Even in her mind, just to herself, had she really admitted that she loved him? It wasn't a bad thought, sure, but it scared her how suddenly she'd realized it. She glanced at Daryl to make sure and yes, there it was; she loved him. Or whatever her teenage mind thought love was, she felt it for him. Beth was pulled from her epiphany by her mother.

"Show Mr Dixon out, will you sweetie?" Annette asked, too distracted to notice Beth's expression of self-realization. Daryl was pulling on his biker jacket, which made her parents raise their eyebrows disapprovingly, but they made no comment. Beth nodded and walked with Daryl to the back porch where his bike was parked, the darkening evening light bringing a chill with it. Evidently, he noticed her weirded-out expression, as after he glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone, he gently buffed her shoulder with his hand.

"Y'okay?" He asked. Beth nodded but he was apparently unconvinced.

"I'm fine," Beth smiled reassuringly.

"Mhmm," Daryl hummed disbelievingly. Beth said nothing else on the matter so he shook his head and gave up. Beth shyly grabbed his hand and held it for a moment, before leaning against his chest so she could balance on tippy-toes and kiss his cheek.

"Goodnight, Mr Dixon," she said in her best fake posh voice with a light chuckle.

"G'night, pony. I'll see ya in the mornin'," Daryl sniggered back. What delightful words they were to hear, Beth thought to herself as she waved him off in a cloud of exhaust fumes and roaring engine. And that goddamn nickname looked like it was sticking. As Beth walked back up the porch and leant on the railing, watching until she couldn't see the light of his headlamp anymore, she realized she didn't at all mind that fact.


	16. Why The Hell You Gotta Be A Gentleman?

The next day of working on the barn was disappointingly tame. Glenn had to go back to the city so Maggie, no longer distracted, paid much more attention to Beth. It was fun to hang out with her sister for once, messing around and laughing while building the barn, but occasionally she'd glance over at Daryl and silently pray for another moment alone. The day passed with only a few words spoken between them. It made Maggie less suspicious about Beth's so-called crush, but Beth couldn't help feel disappointed when she waved goodbye to Daryl that night. She went up to bed frustrated and feeling unsatisfied.

Beep beep.

Beth leapt up, wide awake at the sound of her phone buzzing. It wasn't Carla, they'd been texting all day long and she'd signed off hours ago since she was going to the movies with her mom. And if it wasn't Carla, she could only think of one other person who would call her this late.

"Hey darlin'," Daryl's voice rumbled down the line as she clicked answer. An instant grin spread across her face.

"Hey," she whispered, getting up to make sure her door was closed.

"I missed ya today." Daryl's voice was equally as quiet as hers and she imagined him for a moment, his bedroom door shut, and whispering so Merle wouldn't bust in and start crowing about Daryl on the phone to a girl this late at night.

"Me to," Beth replied. She hoped he couldn't hear how her breathing quickened at his words. She wished she could think of something more interesting to say than a few syllables but her mind was still coming to terms with the fact that Daryl, a man who didn't even use the phone to order pizza, had called her.

"The barn might git finished tomorrow."

"Aw, shit," Beth sighed dejectedly, a little louder than intended. "Are ya sure?"

"Yup. I'm a fast worker, Beth," Daryl sighed. "I was thinkin', though…" He trailed off nervously.

"What?" Beth asked. Silence crackled down the line and she could practically feel Daryl fidgeting while he worked up the courage to speak. "C'mon, tell me," she coaxed.

"Do ya wanna go for a picnic tomorrow?" Daryl blurted out at a million miles an hour. Beth froze.

"Like…like a date?" she whispered, so quiet she could barely hear herself.

"Yeah, but its fine if ya don't want to. I jus' thought, we been messing aroun' and I ain't never even taken you on a proper date, an' that's not real polite of me, but if yer busy-"

"Daryl, I'd love to," Beth laughed softly as she interrupted his rambling. "I'd really like that. But what'll I tell my folks?"

"Tell'm yer takin' me hunting, or somethin'," Daryl said happily, sounding relieved she hadn't turned him down.

"Okay. This is really sweet, Daryl, I'm excited," Beth smiled, her glee evident in her slightly squeaky voice.

"Ain't nothin'," Daryl mumbled, but she could tell he was pleased. They talked a little more until both their voices were slurred with exhaustion. "Well, g'night pony. I hope ya sleep well," Daryl yawned sleepily after Beth told him she had to go.

"G'night Daryl. I'll see ya tomorrow," Beth replied. There was a moment of silence, as if Daryl was going to say something more, but then he hung up.

The next morning, Beth skipped outside as fast as she could when Daryl's motorbike came roaring down the drive. The rest of her family was already at the barn, putting finishing touches on the structure, but Beth had stayed inside a little longer to pretty herself up. A pretty blouse, her best jeans, and even a swipe of mascara she'd stolen from Maggie's room. Daryl seemed to notice as he walked past her. His eyes lingered longer on her face than was probably socially acceptable for "friends", and Beth, as always, blushed and grinned like a lunatic under his gaze.

There wasn't much left to do with the barn. It only took a few more hours to put up the last of the boards and put on the double doors. All that was left was a lick of paint, but Hershel and Annette said they could handle that by themselves so the rest of them were excused. Maggie had to take Shawn into town for something or other, so it was only Beth and Daryl that walked into the house around midday.

"Good timin', we can have a picnic lunch," Daryl remarked, patting a backpack he had carried into the kitchen. He looked a little nervous and glanced fleetingly at her, as if she would suddenly scoff and say she had no intention of going on a picnic with him. It was so cute, his innocent nervousness, that Beth broke out in a smile.

"I can't wait," she reassured him as enthusiastically as she could. She let her hand rest briefly on his arm but had to snatch it away as footsteps came up the porch. Her parents came in the kitchen door chatting away.

"Oh, Daryl, you're still here. Thank you for all your help," Hershel turned to speak when he noticed both of them at the table. "And you as well, Beth. Such a good little helper isn't she?" He asked Daryl, who nodded uncertainly.

"Dad, stop embarrassing me," Beth groaned exasperatedly and frowned at him.

"Oh, right, sorry," Hershel grinned teasingly. Beth's cheeks flamed and she reminded herself to beat up Maggie later. Had she told every damn person in this house about Beth's thing for Daryl?

"Well, since the barn's all finished, I was going to show Daryl that hunting blind you set up, daddy. He's a great hunter," Beth said as casually as she could.

"What a nice idea, Beth," Annette smiled. Beth almost snorted. If she had told her parents she was going anywhere with Daryl Dixon a few weeks ago, they would have called the police. Now they were practically adopting Daryl as their own. Not that Beth was complaining. "You might like to get cleaned up first, Daryl. All that sawdust can't be comfortable," Annette tutted at Daryl's dishevelled appearance. "Beth, would you show him to the bathroom and fetch him a clean shirt?"

Beth only nodded in response and stood to lead Daryl up the stairs and to their bathroom. It was surreal, her mother fussing over Daryl like he was some sort of school friend, and Beth could hardly believe it.

"Here's the bathroom," Beth showed him in. She left him there while she rummaged through the laundry pile to find a shirt that might fit him. A grey button-up was the closest fit she could find, so she brought it back to the bathroom. "And here's a shir-" Beth paused mid-sentence as she rounded the corner to the bathroom. Daryl's filthy shirt was cast aside on the bathroom floor and his upper half was entirely exposed to her wide, staring eyes. She was unable to finish her sentence, too busy taking in the sight of his muscled, tattooed back and thick shoulders that blended effortlessly into his sculpted chest. He was literally breath-taking.

"See something ya like, Beth?" he laughed at her gob-smacked face. "Coz yer kinda starin'," he added casually, since she kept gazing open-mouthed as he rinsed off his grimy arms.

"No. Sorry," Beth squeaked. She snapped her eyes away, blushing profusely.

"I don't mind, jus' don't do it from all the way over there," Daryl growled playfully as he took the shirt from her outstretched hand and used it like a lasso around her waist, dragging her closer.

"Daryl! My parents are downstairs," Beth squeaked in an indignant whisper.

"Exactly," Daryl grinned, his hands wound tight in the shirt so he could pull her within inches from his body. "We'd hear 'em coming up the steps," he whispered with a smirk of satisfaction at Beth's red face and breathlessness. She didn't know where to put her hands; on his bare torso seemed too suggestive, but any lower was equally so. "Don't be shy, pony," Daryl laughed softly, but his thumbs left the shirt and rubbed comfortingly across her lower back in case she really was being shy.

"Dammit, Dixon," Beth sighed happily as he leant down to kiss her. His lips were making her forget where they were, who was downstairs, and the heat radiating from his bare chest made her care less and less that her parents might walk in at any moment. He was far more skilled at kissing than she was, and his tongue did things that made her efforts of a few days ago look like nothing in comparison. She found it almost impossible to tear herself away. Daryl whined in annoyance when she finally did.

"Let's go for that picnic, 'kay?" Beth smiled at his annoyed face. "Then ain't nobody gonna disturb us," she added with a wink. It was fun to give him a taste of his own medicine as he blushed and stuttered at her wink. She left him to finish cleaning up while she went outside.

It was too far to walk to the forest, so she tacked up two horses while she waited for Daryl. Nelly for herself, of course, since the mare had fully recovered from the barn incident. She chose a big fat old bay for Daryl, as she wasn't sure how well he could ride. Crunching footsteps behind them made the horses flick their ears backwards, alerting Beth to Daryl's approach.

"Hope ya don't mind riding," she said with a flick of her wrist towards the horses.

"Nah, love me some ridin'," Daryl's eyes actually lit up as he took in the awaiting saddles. Beth didn't even have to help him up; he swung effortlessly onto the bay and sat nicely in the saddle. Beth whistled.

"Look at you, Mr Cowboy. I think you deserve this," Beth giggled and handed him a wide-brimmed hat to match her own. They didn't bother with helmets since the horses were so reliable, but it was nice to have something to block out the sun. Daryl jammed it over his messy long hair and tipped the brim towards Beth.

"We gonna get moving or what, lil' lady?" he drawled in a decent Texas accent.

"Right this way, pardner," Beth drawled back with a laugh.

They rode down the fence line until they reached the woods that filled the back of the Greene's property, and then Beth lead them through the maze of trees on a path she knew very well. They used to come down here all the time when Maggie and she were little. They used to think fairies and centaurs and other mythical beasts lived in these woods. Although she was older now, and the magic had left the woods, Beth couldn't help that her eyes still looked for the imaginary creatures. Finally, they came to a clearing that let a little sun drift through the canopy. They tied up the horses and took of their bridles so they could eat the fresh green grass that covered the clearing like a natural carpet.

"Nice place," Daryl muttered, looking around. Beth knew they saw everything differently. She looked for imaginary fairy-tale beasts; he looked for signs of animal life. She was happy to just admire the beauty of the forest; he was constantly looking for natural tools to help him survive. It wasn't bad that they were different, Beth realized, it just made things more interesting.

"I'm starving," Beth clapped her hands together as Daryl opened up the backpack. He'd even brought a blanket for them to sit on, and Beth reminded herself to tell him how wonderful he was later. She'd never have thought he was capable of anything like this when she first met him. "Wow, did you make this?" she gasped after taking a bite of a particularly nice quiche.

"Nah, I ain't much of a cook. Got it from town," Daryl admitted with a guilty grin.

"It's still amazing. Thanks for this, Daryl," Beth smiled at him. He blushed and waved a hand, dismissive as always of any compliment aimed at him. He leaned back on his arms and sighed contentedly as they ate. Conversation was surprisingly easy, and Beth felt more and more relaxed as the afternoon wore on. As soon as the food was finished up, Daryl went rummaging in the backpack again and Beth shuffled closer, curious.

"Got ya something," Daryl mumbled, handing her a parcel wrapped up with a pretty bow.

"Daryl, what's this?" Beth squeaked in surprise.

"Carla said it was yer birthday in a few days," Daryl shrugged. "Thought I should, y'know, git ya somethin'."

Beth barely let him finish the sentence before she launched herself at him and wrapped him up in her arms, alternating between squeaking "thankyou! Thankyou!" and kissing his rough cheek. He laughed self-consciously and pushed her off.

"Alright, alright, ya haven't even opened the damn thing yet."

She carefully opened the package, tearing back paper until a little box fell into her lap. She picked it up and immediately recognized the name of the town's only jewellery shop. Excitedly, she opened the top. "Oh my god, Daryl," she screeched.

"D'ya like it?" he asked nervously.

"Yes! Fuck yes! I love it," Beth cried loudly. The box contained a pretty silver chain, and on that chain was a pendant of a little pony mid-gallop with a blue gemstone for an eye. "How did you- I mean…the cost- this is too nice-"

"Aw, shush," Daryl laughed at her tearful stuttering. "It's only a necklace." Beth shook her head and glared at him.

"But it's NOT, Daryl. It's so thoughtful and nice," she squeaked. Never, ever in a million years did she think he'd buy her a present, and certainly not one like this.

He shrugged again, as if he brought expensive jewellery for everyone all the time. "Yer daddy paid me well. He's a good man." Beth's hand drifted subconsciously to the scar on her cheek but she nodded in agreement. Her father was a good man. "Besides, yer turnin' eighteen, right? That deserves somethin' special," Daryl smiled at her.

"I don't know what to say," Beth was still shocked as she dangled the necklace from her fingers, staring at it in awe.

"Then don't say anythin'," Daryl muttered, taking it from her and putting it around her neck. "Jus' kiss me instead."

Beth gladly complied, dragging her fingers through his hat-squashed hair. The pendent was a cold weight against her chest and she couldn't help wonder why Daryl would spend his hard-earned money on her. It was her birthday soon, sure, but she didn't take him for the type to buy gifts to impress girls. Maybe she was reading too much into it, so she forced her brain to shut up while he kissed her. Somehow they fell back onto the plaid picnic blanket, and Beth let him lean over her. His tanned arms were either side of her head and his weight pressed heavily against her midriff. She was so taken by the moment that she let her fingers slip from their grasp on the collar of that grey button-up shirt and moved them down to the first button. He didn't stop her undoing it but when she reached for the next, he broke the kiss and laughed.

"Whoa, pony. Yer not eighteen yet," he chuckled at her pissed off expression.

"What does it matter? It's a few more days," Beth whined desperately, pulling him closer again.

"Matters to me, darlin'," Daryl sighed apologetically. He kissed her again but it was a more chaste, less fervent sort of kiss.

"Why the hell you gotta be such a gentleman? Thought you were a big bad biker," Beth growled.

"Exactly. Ya shouldn't be so keen on me, Beth," Daryl said with a half-smile. "I ain't a gentleman, I promise ya that."

"Then kiss me again," Beth whispered, her eyes full of lust. Daryl shook his head.

"I'm tryin' not to fuck this up, Beth. I have a knack for fuckin' thing up and I don't wanna do that to you," he mumbled quietly, chewing his lip like he always did when he got nervous. "Ain't yer fault. I'm jus' mindful that yer a teenager, an' not the sort of girl I'm used to."

"I can't tell if that was a compliment or not," Beth snorted.

"It was," Daryl smiled back. He let her brush back the hair that framed his face, and she kissed him softly. As softly as she could, then dragged her lips across his jawline, just to watch him shiver.

"Never thought it'd be you tellin' ME to slow down," Beth muttered as she stared at him affectionately.

"That's exactly my point," Daryl shrugged. "And don't take it personal. I jus' wanna do thing right with you, is all."

Beth laid her head on his chest and thought about his words while they dozed off. Daryl's fingers stroked through her hair softer than a feather and the sun slipped behind the trees, no longer shining down into the clearing as midday had long since passed. It was slightly colder without the sun and Beth was glad to be curled up next to Daryl's warm body, just like when they were camping. He was sweet, so sweet, and Beth was continuously surprised that every time they were together, she would peel back another layer of Daryl Dixon and find an even nicer version of him underneath. It was like he put on layers and layers of bad attitude to protect himself, and underneath it all he was just a thoughtful, decent guy. Beth could hear his heart beat under her ear and wondered how many times that heart had been broken to make him have so many layers of armour. She promised herself there and then that she would not add to that armour; he would never have a reason to guard anything from her. If he wanted to take it slow, fine. If he wanted to give her gifts and cute nicknames, fine. Anything to keep that big heart beating and intact.

Later than night, Beth crept to the laundry basket and fished out Daryl's sawdust-covered shirt. She shook the worst of it off than pulled it over her head. It was dirty, yes, but it still smelled like him and she wanted to go to sleep with the pretence that he was there with her. She sighed and settled down on the pillows, wondering how long it would be until they would sleep together in a bed like this, properly. Not even in a sexual way, but just falling asleep and waking up in the same bed, in the same house, not scared of making the other person nervous or of someone walking in on them . She was beginning to understand his varying levels of affection now; he liked to be in charge. And not for any predatory misogynistic reasons, just because he got nervous when Beth took the lead. She was fine if he felt more comfortable with the security of knowing exactly what was happening and what was going to happen next. She just wished he wouldn't get so shy when she made a move. It wasn't like she was some epitome of female seduction, either; it would just be nice to be a little more forward without making him nervous. Oh well. They'd get there one day. For now, Beth was happy to let him lead her wherever his heart desired. She fell asleep with his shirt bunched up under her face and imagining as best she could the sound his heart had made under her cheek that day.


	17. new chapters coming soon!

Hey guys, long time no update. to be honest i'd forgotten about this story, but thankfully an email reminded me! my life has been super hectic but there WILL be more chapters posted as soon as i can :) thank you all for the kind words! i'm writing the rest of this for you guys now 3


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